He took a stick and put a cloth on it
He raised it high and called it a flag
Then he stood straight on his horse
And waved his hand all around him
This is the country we will make
This is the promise of a dreamland
We will go and conquer everyone
And change future of our children
Surrounding him are weary eyes
Toiled hands and parched feet
When the stomach remains empty
Who has the time to think destiny
Hope makes one forget hunger
And feeds them with bright future
They see in him their savior
Who will end all their misery
He invoked everything possible
Region religion culture tradition
He made himself a born god
So to get the blind devotion
He led the fight from the front
But soon receded to the back
Surrounded him with bodyguards
Many of whom died as martyrs
One day the country is born
But he converted it into a Kingdom
He proclaimed himself as a King
And all to become his fiefdom
Toiled hands and parched feet of war
Hope still floating in their eyes
They are sent back to fields, So that
They can bring more wealth to King
The king disappeared in the fort
Between the luxury of wealth
The huge mansion standing tall
Built by the blood of millions
Toiled hands and parched feet
Are again back in the fields
Waiting for another savior
To repeat the story of working kind
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