They try to catch water in a sieve
But the genie of freedom has fled
Each arm of the dictatorship flails at shadows
Where poor Neda lay down dead

The information age makes a mockery of them
With all their mean–minded concerns
They fixed an election in Iran
And immediately the whole world learns

They try to clamp down on fresh air
And claim that black is white
Their time has gone but still they resist
Saying wrong is right

The old ways are now in collision
With information they now take arms
But with each sword blade thrust at shadows
Only themselves it harms

They are desperate to put truth in chains
Where everyone by the nose is led
Far away from the bloody road
Where poor Neda lay down dead.