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Under a sky full of foreign gods
Under sovereigns of every kind
Inside the cities of threnody
Smelling the dung of villages
Accidentals
We measure the explosions of our eyes
The sharp tones of our throats
The sperm marks by teenagers on the walls
With a settled query on our faces
O stranger tell the Spartans
that this country that laughs
dressed in light blue, green and white
she is more genuine
during the sunsets of August
under a red cloaked sky
that drops blood and tears
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