\"Kill one, two, or one hundred roses. But they\'ll never stop the arrival of spring.\"
The day has ended and night has begun
Left in the shadows, blindfolded from the sun
That blazing hope withered and died
A chance at life backed by a million cries
Come that time when the ballots are cast
Lesser of two evils, two vestiges of our past
The aging ghosts of yesterday possessing our tomorrow
The weak crumble and fall into pits of their own sorrow
We are the weak, left without shelter in the rain
We are the weak, unable to soothe our own pain
We are the weak, bereft of a voice to control destiny
We are the weak, slaves in the land of the free
We are the weak, left only with our hands
We are the weak, and we sorely understand
That to continue our fists must rise
Past the despair and past all the lies
Kill a thousand stars but a million remain
We will be the fire that burns through the rain
We are the weak, who have lost the present
We are the weak, who will win the future
The ideas he left behind can never die
Clinging to the hope that things can truly change
Perhaps destiny finally is in our range
Our fists remain raised, our hearts remain unfazed
They may kill a thousand stars but a million remain
We will be the fire that burns away the rain