BATTLEFIELD THREE - .:ENG:. ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ NEW GUYS!

we'll keep kicking ass on any and every game, lads :-)
THE INTERNATIONALE
By Eugene Pottier
(Translated by Charles H. Kerr.)
Arise, ye prisoners of starvation!
Arise, ye wretched of the earth,
For justice thunders condemnation,
A better world's in birth.
No more tradition's chains shall bind us,
Arise, ye slaves; no more in thrall!
The earth shall rise on new foundations
We have been naught, we shall be all.
REFRAIN
'Tis the final conflict.
Let each stand in his place,
The Industrial Union
Shall be the human race.
We want no condescending saviors,
To rule us from a judgment hall;
We workers ask not for their favors;
Let us consult for all.
To make the thief disgorge his booty
To free the spirit from its cell,
We must ourselves decide our duty,
We must decide and do it well.
The law oppresses us and tricks us,
Wage systems drain our blood;
The rich are free from obligations,
The laws the poor delude.
Too long we've languished in subjection,
Equality has other laws;
"No rights," says she, "without their duties,
No claims on equals without cause."
Behold them seated in their glory
The kings of mine and rail and soil!
What have you read in all their story,
But how they plundered toil?
Fruits of the workers [sti]il are buried
In the strong coffers of a few;
In working for their restitution
The men will only ask their due.
Toilers from shops and fields united,
The union we of all who work;
The earth belongs to us, the workers,
No room here for the shirk.
How many on our flesh have fattened!
But if the noisome birds of prey
Shall vanish from the sky some morning,
The blessed sunlight still will stay.