Now uttering your feelings is a crime
Speaking against the wrongdoings may send you to jail,
Even worse to your grave.
The last word you uttered may be your last word
One step outside, then it’s gonna be curtains for you
The last moving vehicle you’re gonna ride is the hearse
Your bed is your coffin
Your room is six feet under.
You’re gonna be sleeping silently
With no oxygen to inhale nor carbon dioxide exhale
Your mind and your body gonna be at rest.
They died fighting,
Shouting for their voices to be heard
But they ended up dead.
Speaking against the wrongdoings is your death sentence.
People slept trying.