Rhythm of Time (Pt. 3) - Bobby Sands
It smiled in holy innocence before conquistadors of old. So meek, and tame, and unaware of the deathly power of gold. It burst forth through pitiful Paris streets and stormed the old Bastille. And it marched upon the serpent's head, and crushed it 'neath its heel. It died in blood on buffalo plains and starved by moons of rain. Its heart was buried at Wounded Knee, but it will come to rise again.
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