Better to Die On Your Feet Than Live On Your Knees

Stooped in the dark
 Chained to your neighbour
 Feeding from the master's trough
 The very products of your labour
 Squirm through the muck
 And worship as taught
 Sucking the tit of capitalists
 Bereft of independent thought
 But then the rays of light up high
 Your face is raised towards the sky
 Struggle to stand and straighten your back
 Reaching for hope while all around you whips crack
 Better to die on your feet, than live on your knees
 proletariats clasping shoulders
 Brothers and sisters forsaking their owners
 Mass revolt as working class stretch
 Shaking off years of wrongful debt
 Better to die on your feet
 Cut down while marching in the street
 Better to die free
 Than subjugated on your knees