Burn out these eyes eyes until we scream  "enough!" Such is the nature of our  Struggles. Hampered by naught but our  Own sight of the laddar's rungs begun  Halfway up. But still we'll climb, hand over   Mouth, fist over thought, despite our  Numbers. Break the seal while growing   Still. Once more over the top, friends!  And rising still the aesthetic of action  We've idolized. Coupled with our position  In this: a median within the din of a bleating  Servitude. Low enough to feel the boots  Of Rome, but high enough to cut the heel.  What good are we now? Left in transit by  A legacy of thought that acted very little  In the name of the high enough to learn,  But low enough to fight from the outside.  Cut this to the bone.  Assemble all yours. Call on the allies. This is  The arming of a nation under all signs.  Bring out the banners. Proclaim the marches.  This is our bloc of many colours.