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Amado Picardal



 In the middle of the night

 you appeared

 claiming to be our friend

 and savior.


 With a gun in your hand

 you revealed to us

 why we are poor and hungry.

 You proclaimed to us

 the good news

 of revolution.


We fed you.

 We shared with you

 the fruits of our toil.

 We gave you

 our brave sons and daughters.



 We believed and hoped

 you could give us

 a better tomorrow

 with that gun in your hand.


 So many tomorrows

 have come and gone

 but we are still poor and hungry

 and we have lost

 our brave sons and daughters



 Our farms have become

 a battle ground.

 Our furrows have become

 shallow graves.


What can we harvest

 when only bullets and bombs

 have been sown?


Since you came

 other strange monsters

 have also appeared in our land.

 Like vampires they swoop from the sky.

 We keep hoping this is only a nightmare.

 We dread the barking of the dogs

and the knocking on our doors

 in the middle of the night.



 We had to pack up

 and leave our homes and farms,

 our carabaos, pigs and chickens.

 We are exiles

 in our own country.


You told us political power

 comes out from the barrel of the gun.

 Now we know

 only death, more hunger and terror

 come out from the barrel of the gun.


We are the casualties

 of this protracted war

 and this total war.

 The bursts and explosions

 drown out our cry

 for justice and peace.



 You promised us

 a land we can call our own

 and all we got

 is this no man's land.