In the days in which all our progression
Our values and decency, common dreams
Falters, and falls into sad depression
And no one listens to our silent screams
Behind the sirens, concrete, the crowds grow
Now forty, now fifty, now even the world
They shout, they cry, and not even the snow
Can end the movement until they are heard
Still my hopes, my dreams are small and hollow
Trapped in a prison of our own design
This is not the time for Man to wallow
Brace yourself, a new era comes in time
Now that the world is awake don’t forget
We owe both the past and future a debt