The blue skies. The polluted Malacca Straits. The calm seas of the east. We we're never good for you. She knows. Yes she knows. We're divided inside. Dancing our fans and working our squared caps. We're controlled. Yes! We are measured. We're weighted and we have been deemed unworthy.
The people. The rakyat. The ones that matters. We hold back. We sing our hearts out. We scream. We're hurt. We are united. We all look towards the red sky. We yearn. We please. We are bounded. We all look towards the red sky.
The silver linings. The strings that plays. The hope it brings. The tunes of liberation. The oppression.
Oh! Here lies the oppression in blue and yellow missing the red and white.
The bus numbered eleven. It carries us. The never ending hike up the hills of Jerusalem. Holding hands. We will be without regrets. We will carry our weights. Our red, blue, white and yellow. The crescent and the star.
We will love you. Always. For we are you.
We will love you. Always. For you are who we are.
full stop
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