On a round table
                             They sought out the hands of our band masters
                             For dialogue. Masters in whom’s  back we
                             Gathered courage to make noises which sounded
                             In the sheer hollowness of the wolves ear,
                             Over our barren land and polluted water
                             We matched down the streets, nooks and cranny
                             With song of emancipation
                             To restore our motherland and dreams lost in day time.

                            On a round table
                            Our band masters broke the oath of allegiance.
                            Our voice rest in silence as we watch them
                            Speak in forked tongues
                            And with painted words, they keep the words
                            Of promise to our ears and break it to our hope
                           Then we realize we were without warriors.

                           On a round table
                           We lost it all, the tumult and shouting died
                           Bands are gone
                           More shall still come.