It is a glory to die for an idea

Near the church gate
Beneath the violent sky
The mob is dancing!!!

They don’t have any names,
They are away from all identities
They are white, black and gray
But they have a common color
The color of an idea, which they love,
And dare to die for it.

Words are coming from their throat
Like bullets
They are moving, so slowly, yet passionately
This mob is not you or me
It is “we” and they are fighting for us
Their hungry blue jeans,
And the jaws of the wind,
All are real!
Their starved bellies are talking each other

‘Let us be buried alive
Let us be killed
Let our blood flow like a river
Let our children be never born’

They will not leave this street
Since they are the dancing mod
Dancing for you and for me
Every where in the world they have a common face
And a common identity,
They are called the dancing mob.