I was bathing in the blood of my ancestors,
filling a cup with drops of sweat.
I was nothing more than the continuing of a line,
drawn in the past,coloured in regret.
I take a stand and rip the painting,
I break the cup, the liquid spills over the ground,
I have no regrets and now the bath is filled with egoism,
I'll let you all know by which name I'm going now.