[Intro — ] A man can be free... and yet inchain'd... Open your eyes, the past has only changed its drape. [Verse 1] Upon the ocean of night, the hulls of wasted lives, Tossed upon the scales with no regard for what survives. The Code made human kind a simple piece of trade, A commodity anchored where the first block was laid. From cotton under ash to canes burned to the quick, Backs bowed beneath the lash, the blow so cold and thick. Yet Louverture's dark shadow drew the frontier lines, Shattering the first iron where the dust entwines. The chain has changed its weapon, left the bleeding flesh, To weave itself in silence and enfold the air afresh. History changed its ink, but the metal stays the same, It grips the future tight while the world weeps in its shame. [Chorus] The same old chains — just less visible, The same old masters — speeches more credible. Yesterday it was bodies, today it is time, But either way... they win every single time. [Verse 2] They drew their lines across the atlases of earth, Dividing up the suns for all their masters' worth. Terror wears the garments of law and of progress, While gold is plundered under a mute and cold duress. Césaire cried it out, the judgment is absolute: When you break a people, the very sky goes mute. From the mines of the deep South to the gray metropolis, The self-same current surges and foments the crisis. They offer you their pity once they've stolen all you own, On the maps of deception, everything is overthrown. Yet the subsoil groans beneath the weight of stolen wealth, And the hunger of empires feeds their drunken stealth. [Chorus] The same old chains — just less visible, The same old masters — speeches more credible. Yesterday it was bodies, today it is time, But either way... they win every single time. [Verse 3] The factory spins in secret at the edge of the world, So others, in peace, can forget the tempest hurled. Credit is the tool and the brand-new dungeon cell, Where you sell your existence to play a part in hell. Power yields nothing unless it is torn away, Behind the smokescreens and the paints of disarray. While up above, the splendor forgets the bitter sweat, The masses learn to live in the shadows, fading yet. [Outro — Solo voice, striking, a cappella] History hasn't passed us by... It has simply adapted.
