Insubordinate

Tastes of tongues
And tastes of triumphs
Smells of perfumes, autumn nights

Textures of skin
Just like velvet
Pattern of a summer sky

Wind in the hair
Music of joy
Sound of laughter and delight

Passionate dance
Scorching romance
A face remembered all by heart

When the cataracts of the Hells have opened
We swarmed out and reigned free
We were young and bald
We thought we own everything
While in fact we possessed nothing
We were mere parasites on the surface of the Earth

Printed in letters of golden tint
To be shielded for eternity
By the power of words
Like sheltering cocoons

The bitterness of defeat
And the uneasy taste of lies
The sound of distant, painful cries

The smell of blood
And dripping sweat
Tainting the pure white velvet

As the embers of youth went cold
And our folly of freedom has passed away
We came to realize that we were alone
We have chosen exile of our free will
Though never knowing the significance
Of our solitary confinement

Printed in letters of ashes
To be remembered for eternity
As a memento of our fears
As a warning of what’s to be

And by the time we became aware of that
It was too late to make amends
We were outcasts

Nails to the heart
Thorns to the skin
Losing the loved, losing the kin

Voices of anguish and death
The echo of a final breath

You’re above us all
Yet we write our history
Subordinate
Not enslaved
In our ways, we are free