A shroud of darkness falls upon the sun, The verdant green of our nation turns to black. Peace refuses to make her home here, For the mouths of our leaders are opened wide— Swallowing the hope of the many.

The land our fathers promised us, A land once sworn to flow with milk and honey, Now runs red with the blood of the innocent; A nation bartered and sold to the highest greed.

We count the years of a hollow age, But the truth is, the dream died in its youth. I mourn the soil, yet I salute the ghosts— The fallen heroes who bled for a freedom That we have let slip through our fingers.

Now our hopes are severed and divided, Our vision blinded by the dust of the fray. The mission is forgotten in the hollow of the night, For the true heroes are buried in the earth.