The ink remained, the pain is visible, it will never fade
But the memory of the brave is buried in the grave
At dawn he waits for the rising sun to alight
The jeepney intrudes the whistling sound of the night
The child mourns and weeps in the cradle of filth
Even with closed eyes, they are still waiting for the rising sun
Will it ever come? What happened to the beaming sun?
The begging, the pleading, it's all bleeding
Still gazing at the grain of sands
The time has travelled through the glass
Juan ,unawakened ,comforted by the blind sight
Bow down before the stouts
We ousted them, yes we ousted them
But the chains are not yet broken
Still tied up in the swollen lane
Like a child holding the kite
Running towards the greener field
Competing against the bright lights
But the stage have left them behind
They have become the pawns, gambled by the play of supremacy
The flag was raised but why do we remain in languish?
Poisoned in the lethal mindsets, paralyzed in the culture of convergence
Can we still see the rising sun,
When Juan has chosen to play the blind, deaf and mute?
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