they rushed my flat
called me anarchist
now my head’s been shaved
stuck my foot in my own grave
but I have to be brave
wish I could just fly away
a last view of the horizon
I just hear shots and sirens
in your dictatorship head
I’m feeling dazed and mostly dead
dazed and mostly dead but I scream:
no nations —
it’s just a construct to oppress
no borders —
I can still see blood on your hands
no nations —
against your national threats
you can’t wash the blood — the blood off your hands
they stomped my face without a grace
acted like bloodhounds in a chase
but I won’t give up — I won’t fail
for all my brothers and sisters in jail
one day we’ll see the horizon
without the shots and the sirens
destroy dictatorship-camps
and fuck those national trends
you can’t wash the blood — the blood off your hands
my jail becomes your mental jail one day
you can’t wash the blood — the blood off your hands
my jail — my jail could be yours one day