| I saw a man in my dream, calling out, in the Timorese language
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| He was gripped by, an iron claw, defining the pain and agony
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| He cried out straight from the heart
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| Freedom for East Timor, nothing less and nothing more, freedom for East Timor
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| Like the Yolngu people, calling out for a change, they fought for their rights
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| Not to be divided, same movement we hear, same feelings we share
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| To see our own people dying, while our mothers are crying
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| It’s been a cry, straight from the heart
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| Freedom for East Timor, nothing less and nothing more, freedom for East Timor
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| I’m a prisoner in my own land, why do one rule and others suffer
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| Is this justice? |
| Is this justice? |
| Is this justice?
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| Like the Chechens and the West Irians, they have one thing in common
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| They are fighting for freedom, why do we have to surer
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| Just to live our life in peace, you can hear our cry
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| It’s coming straight from our heart
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| I’m a prisoner in my own land
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| Why do one rule and others suffer
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| Is this justice? |
| Is this justice? |
| Is this justice?
|
| Is this justice? |
| Is this justice? |
| justice? |
| justice? |