Ask me where the poets are
And I will show you a heap of bones
Rotting in a cold prison cell.
Ask me where the singers are
And I will show you thousands of men
Sleeping quietly in mass graves.
Ask me where the writers are
And I will show you maimed and mutilated men,
For good people are everywhere but in chains.
The drum has been silenced by a gun,
The guitar arrested and the flute assassinated!
The piano has fled to exile,
The library burnt to ashes
And the librarians sentenced to death!
Ask me where the actors are
And I will show you Stella Nyanzi
Bleeding helplessly...
Ask me for the artists,
And I will show you miserable faces
Wrapped in a cloud of terror.
Ask me where the good people are
And I will show you heavy chains
Squeezing their necks...
With the mad man\'s \"order from above\".