Victory Isn't Clean

[Intro] (Instrumental Solo) [Verse 1] We struck the match on bruised throats and fiery speeches, Boots on cobblestones, hearts tucked tight in our breeches. Banners snapped, teeth bared, we swore by the dawn, We didn’t crave war—we craved a new morning’s song. They called us beasts, branded our cause as wrong, So we learned to march to the rhythm of a breaking song. Every step a vow we could never unsay, Every street a debt we were forced to pay. [Pre-Chorus] Freedom was the slogan, blood was the invoice, Our roar was the only truth that cut through the noise. [Chorus] Victory isn’t clean, not when you’re breaking out, Not when the gates fall to a human shout. White flag blushed crimson in my shaking grip, The dripping crown still wins, still sits. We remade the world but can’t scrub our hands clean, Sink runs cold, but the guilt still clings. I don’t regret the change—just the price we crossed, Victory isn’t clean, but we still lost more than we won. [Verse 2] Parade bells ring, confetti dusts the air, But it settles like ash when you know what’s there. Medals glint, cameras flash, smiles all rehearsed, My mind keeps slicing back to the worst. A kid with a sign, a cracked front tooth, A friend who fell mid-sentence, mid-truth. We marched for light but dragged shadows in our wake, Built a new anthem from the gasps of broken lungs that ache. [Pre-Chorus] They call it history when the shouting stops, But in my chest, that moment never drops. [Chorus] Victory isn’t clean, not when you’re breaking out, Not when the gates fall to a human shout. White flag blushed crimson in my shaking grip, The dripping crown still wins, still sits. We remade the world but can’t scrub our hands clean, Sink runs cold, but the guilt still clings. I don’t regret the change—just the price we crossed, Victory isn’t clean, but we still lost more than we won. [Bridge] I stare at my hands like they belong to a stranger, Red in the lines, proof of the danger. I begged for a future, got a permanent stain, A new sunrise built on old, unhealed pain. If I pretend it was holy, I turn cruel, If I deny the cost, I break the rule. So say their names, not just the win we claim, A revolution without memory repeats the same old shame. [Build] Drums pound like footsteps, brass blares like alarms, Choir swells like a tide with a thousand arms. Paint the new world—not with lies, not with pride, With truth that holds steady when the cheering dies. [Final Chorus] Victory isn’t clean, but it can be honest, Not a spotless myth, not a sainted promise. White flags blushed crimson, yes, I admit, The dripping crown still wins—but we choose what it is. We remade the world but can’t scrub our hands clean, So we’ll rebuild with them, brick by brick, until it stands. I don’t regret the change—just the cost we crossed, So I’ll live like their lives weren’t casually lost. [Outro] Let the crowds sing. Let the drums roll on. I’ll carry the stain and do the work it stole. Freedom’s not clean—it’s a charge we keep, Applause over graves, a promise we owe to the deep.