Breasts bared
Hands upraised in triumph
The sound of shackles shattering
Still echoes off the stone
A wild cry goes up
Answered by the sea maidens
Her song is Retribution.

Fall, you Tyrants, fall!
Drown in the blood you shed untimely!
Quake, you Tyrants, Quake!
You who rule through fear
Hark to War Cry of the Weaver!

Like a tree after much sawing
Collapses with a single cut
That shout
Her Cry
Emancipates at its uttering.
Every sting
Each indignity
You endure
Brings you closer
To Revolution.

Now rise up!

Great Gaia dances
To Ariadne’s song
And Thalassa gathers waves
To the rhythm of her feet
Mighty Ouranos swings low
To listen to her singing
And her song
Her dance
Her indictment
Shall set the captives free.