It reflects
Shows the bosom that died
Very long after puberty
It's innocent glance that make a youngster old
After all that's how it must be
When the hardened youth makes it
Uneasy for the soil that buried thier own umblica
They say it represent riches
The yellow or gold they say in thier proudfully flag
They say freedom
They say justice
Hailed thier motherland!
Peace with poverty is no peace
It could had been better if they still have full control over us
Like how it used to be
Then all suffering will be better than our own land son cheating us.