Will you unearth it with me,

    what I've come to find —

what has been buried

    through apathy, regrets; in short, wasted time?

No matter how coal-black

    that dead weight may appear,

I know we can bring it back to gold

    by shared blood and hot tears:

for a dream across generations,

    neglected, forgotten, unsung,

may become tarnished, rusted, and withered,

    but not yet undone;

for the threads of redemption

    never leave our hands.