On a field of red one gold star. Raised above his head. Raised above his head. He was not like any other. He was just like any other. And the song they bled. Was a hymn to him. Awake my little one. The seed of revolution. Sewn in the sleeve. Of cloth humbly worn. Where others are adorned. Above the northern plain. The great birds fly. With great wings. Over the paddy fields. And the people kneel. And the men they toil. Yet not for their own. And the children are hungry. And the wheel groans. There before a grass hut. A young boy stood. His mother lay dead. His sisters cried for bread. And within his young heart. The seed of revolution sewn. In cloth humbly worn. While others are adorned. And he grew into a man. Not like any other. Just like any other. One small man. A beard the color of rice. A face the color of tea. Who shared the misery. Of other men in chains. With shackles on his feet. Escaped the guillotine. Who fought against. Colonialism imperialism. Who remained awake. While others slept. Who penned like Jefferson. Let independence ring. And the cart of justice turns. Slow and bitterly. And the people were crying. Plant that seed that seed. And they crawled on their bellies. Beneath the giant beast. And filled the carts with bodies. Where once had been their crops. And the great birds swarm. Spread their wings overhead. And his mother dead. And the typhoons and the rain. The jungles in flames. And the orange sun. None could be more beautiful. Than Vietnam. Nothing was more beautiful. Than Vietnam. And his heart stopped beating. And the wheel kept turning. And the words he bled. Were a hymn to them. I have served the whole people. I have served my whole country. And as I leave this world. May you suffer union. And my great affection. Limitless as sky. Filled with golden stars. The question is raised. Raised above his head. Was he of his word. Was he a good man. For his image fills the southern heart. With none but bitterness. And the people keep crying. And the men keep dying. And it's so beautiful. So beautiful. Give me one more turn. Give me one more turn. One more turn of the wheel. One more revolution. One more turn of the wheel