We are not here for forgiveness,
It’s our pride which brings us to you.

We are your melancholical sons,
With open arms you shall take us.

Why did you sell-
Sell us to that soul taker,
Why were the coins we recieved grosque?

Why were our fathers deformed?
Why were our mothers blistered?

I was not blood stained,
It was the storm.

Like a leaf I was,
It was the sea.

Like a bottle,
I wasn’t swimming.

I wasn’t drowning,
I was just staying afloat.