Yesterday,we woke up to a new dream,
The quest for a new saviour it would seem,
We rode against the waves and tides,
And swore against all other sides,
We stood for fresh air,
for hope and all that we hold dear,
From north to the far east,
We blindly joined in the feast.

Never as before,
Have we but with one voice,
Amidst all our pains and more,
Chose so wisely as to make the wrong choice,
Like Portia's golden pot.
For indeed we were just as right,
As though we relied on luck.

No one ever gets gold,
Who sits and whine all day
And so trust on the fables of ''gudluck'',
For just so you know,
Even the sun grows cold,
When it fails to bare it's bossom..