## [Verse — Anger Rising] People shouldn't fucking die because politicians cannot agree. You don't send another mother's child to a grave for your victory. You sit protected behind your walls while young men freeze and bleed. You call it honour, call it duty— we call it hunger, pride and greed. You thought the people would praise you, thought they'd chant your fucking name. But every coffin coming home only feeds the people's rage. They don't love you. They don't support you. They curse the choices that you make. Because it's easy preaching glory when it's someone else's grave. You turn neighbour against neighbour, brother against brother too. You teach ordinary people hatred for people they never even knew. For borders. For power. For another fucking throne. While mothers stand beside the graves asking why their child won't come home. ## [Verse — Fix Your Own Home] Before you send your people dying, why don't you fix the home they know? Feed the hungry. House the homeless. Give your children somewhere safe to grow. Give the worker honest wages. Give the old the care they've earned. Build the schools and heal the broken, before another village burns. How dare you ask them for their blood when you cannot give them what they deserve? A safe home. A decent life. A future worth fighting to preserve. Fix your fucking country first before you point across a line and tell your people there's an enemy they must hate, they must fight. When your own are barely surviving, when they beg and you ignore their cries, don't wrap your hunger up in flags and call their sacrifice “national pride.” They don't owe you their children. They don't owe you their graves. A leader should protect his people— **not spend their lives to stay in power.** ## [Angry Build] What kind of leader takes his people and feeds them to the earth? What kind of man demands their blood just to prove what power's worth? If you force your young into graves for your struggle and your pride, don't speak to us of heaven with their blood upon your hands. You can hide behind your titles. You can hide behind your lies. But no throne follows to the grave, no crown survives when power dies. And if there's truly hell below us, then hear the people yell: **Those who sacrifice the innocent for power build their road to hell.** ## [Chorus — Furious] **MORANA! ENOUGH BLOOD!** Don't take the young— take away the hatred! Let the politicians fight with words instead of sending sons to graves! Fix the homes you claim to govern! Give your people what they need! Because a nation isn't power— **it's the fucking people that you lead!** **MORANA! HEAR US NOW!** We are tired of all their lies! No mother's son should have to die so another man's power survives. Let the rifles fall. Let the hatred end. Let enemies look into each other's eyes. Because beneath those different uniforms are ordinary human lives. ## [Breakdown — Raw Voice] A Russian mother cries. A Ukrainian mother cries. Tell me, Morana— **which tear belongs to which side?** Pain carries no flag. Grief knows no border. The earth doesn't care what anthem played when it swallowed someone's son. So send them home. Let the leaders keep their speeches. **Send the people home.** Give them homes worth returning to. Give them food upon their tables. Give their children safe streets. Give them dignity. Give them the life their leaders should have built before ever asking them to die. And let the living— **stay alive.**
