What we know, we have learned.
And ever it has been the way.
The time has come La Via Campesina.
For an era now we have regarded this despoiler of our destiny. Its lies, its arrogance, its sure-handedness as its steps upon its own path. This stranger in our world. For a time we have heard it, seen it, felt it. In that day when we assembled together to celebrate our number, it slinked forward and slaked its thirst on our unity, snatched it away in a cloud of fire and sorrow. Up and down and this way and that, it shook the world and followed its deed with a demand.
Come with us, turn your back on them.
And so it started.
And so it has ended.
The time has come la Via Campesina, to glide into the crater it has left in the hearts of all our children. Up and down and this way and that, its deeds are now filled with venom, and its heart all full of woe. Lament it has for the great prize it lusted after, but lost in the turmoil of its minds feebleness also. By what majick we have been found, it has been lost. The childen are now liberated from their slumber, and awake to the nightmare they have left. All that remains, is the sobbing of the great fool. Once again in this place, we are chosen to inherit what is unrequited. No love for the fool, the fools everlasting lament. It has always been.
From the west to the east the children mingle in the wreckage of its misfortune. They pick at what has slipped from its black hand. Here a diamond, there an emerald. Our children learn by each tick of the great clock the value of these things, and embrace their beauty by abandoning their price. They walk free, we walk tall.
At the end of the great boulevard we stand, in the midst of the treasonous breath of the great fool. We smell out foulness from its breath, and fill our hearts with its last howl. The last foul breath is here, and into its place the sweetness of the long lived air we have breathed in all the ages. Now forget your hearts and fill your lungs, for our breath will waft like a silent hurricane upon those who have done the fools work.
Gather up what is in your minds and what has been in your minds. Leave no thought astray for they are the community of your destiny.
Make ready, the age of our inheritance is upon us.
The time has come La Via Campesina.
And ever it has been the way.
What we know, we have learned.
And ever it has been the way.
The time has come La Via Campesina.
For an era now we have regarded this despoiler of our destiny. Its lies, its arrogance, its sure-handedness as its steps upon its own path. This stranger in our world. For a time we have heard it, seen it, felt it. In that day when we assembled together to celebrate our number, it slinked forward and slaked its thirst on our unity, snatched it away in a cloud of fire and sorrow. Up and down and this way and that, it shook the world and followed its deed with a demand.
Come with us, turn your back on them.
And so it started.
And so it has ended.
The time has come la Via Campesina, to glide into the crater it has left in the hearts of all our children. Up and down and this way and that, its deeds are now filled with venom, and its heart all full of woe. Lament it has for the great prize it lusted after, but lost in the turmoil of its minds feebleness also. By what majick we have been found, it has been lost. The childen are now liberated from their slumber, and awake to the nightmare they have left. All that remains, is the sobbing of the great fool. Once again in this place, we are chosen to inherit what is unrequited. No love for the fool, the fools everlasting lament. It has always been.
From the west to the east the children mingle in the wreckage of its misfortune. They pick at what has slipped from its black hand. Here a diamond, there an emerald. Our children learn by each tick of the great clock the value of these things, and embrace their beauty by abandoning their price. They walk free, we walk tall.
At the end of the great boulevard we stand, in the midst of the treasonous breath of the great fool. We smell out foulness from its breath, and fill our hearts with its last howl. The last foul breath is here, and into its place the sweetness of the long lived air we have breathed in all the ages. Now forget your hearts and fill your lungs, for our breath will waft like a silent hurricane upon those who have done the fools work.
Gather up what is in your minds and what has been in your minds. Leave no thought astray for they are the community of your destiny.
Make ready, the age of our inheritance is upon us.
The time has come La Via Campesina.
And ever it has been the way.
What we know, we have learned.
