Forty years after dawn
We burnt the drums and exiled the drummers
Still holding cows for other villagers to milk
Undergarments of the banks stink like garbage
Forty years after dawn
State plans still dressed in torn overalls of parliament
Bullet speaks louder than ballot
Forty years after dawn
We discovered no totem of truth
And flowers of freedom
Never bloom
Forty years after dawn
Blood smells more toxic
Than pesticides in the lungs of the cities
And nostrils of the villages
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