Insubordinate

Tastes of tongues

And tastes of triumphs

Smells of perfumes, autumn nights

Textures of skin

Just like velvet

Pattern of a summer sky

Wind in the hair

Music of joy

Sound of laughter and delight

Passionate dance

Scorching romance

A face remembered all by heart

When the cataracts of the Hells have opened

We swarmed out and reigned free

We were young and bald

We thought we own everything

While in fact we possessed nothing

We were mere parasites on the surface of the Earth

Printed in letters of golden tint

To be shielded for eternity

By the power of words

Like sheltering cocoons

The bitterness of defeat

And the uneasy taste of lies

The sound of distant, painful cries

The smell of blood

And dripping sweat

Tainting the pure white velvet

As the embers of youth went cold

And our folly of freedom has passed away

We came to realize that we were alone

We have chosen exile of our free will

Though never knowing the significance

Of our solitary confinement

Printed in letters of ashes

To be remembered for eternity

As a memento of our fears

As a warning of what’s to be

And by the time we became aware of that

It was too late to make amends

We were outcasts

Nails to the heart

Thorns to the skin

Losing the loved, losing the kin

Voices of anguish and death

The echo of a final breath

You’re above us all

Yet we write our history

Subordinate

Not enslaved

In our ways, we are free