Г О Р Ч И В А   П Е С Е Н

                                                             Имам си аз отечество –

                                                             кътче от Рая дадено.

                                                             С високи сини Балкани

                                                             и реки луди, пенливи,

                                                             с притоци пълни със сълзи

                                                             в себе си болка събрали

                                                             от моите братя и сестри.

                                                             Имам си братя и сестри.

                                                             Отколе са орисани.

                                                             Кой отде иде, мъчи ги.

                                                             Кой както може, граби ги.

                                                             Препълниха се реките

                                                             от тeзи сълзи народни..

                                                             мъката за да покрият! -

                                                             скъсаха язовирите.

                                                             Миличка моя родино,

                                                             плачи ненаплакала се

                                                             за тези що са родени

                                                             в твоята земя прекрасна!

                                                             Родени и забравени.

                                                             Няма бъдеще за всички,

                                                             а само за апашите.

                                                             Ако не можеш да крадеш,

                                                             ако не можеш да лъжеш,

                                                             далаверите да въртиш

                                                             по-добре  бягай далече!

                                                             Разпръснаха се пилците –

                                                             дълги пътища поеха

                                                             далече от родината.

                                                             Останаха лисиците –

                                                             хитро да правят сметките

                                                             и да притискат бедните.

                                                             Бедни сме, Боже, бедни сме.

                                                             Никой не иска да знае

                                                             как потъваме в нощите,

                                                             как дочакваме слънцето,

                                                             дори без жълти стотинки,

                                                             без кора хлебец във къщи.

                                                             Сметките ни набъбнали,

                                                             няма кой да ги погаси.

                                                             Всичкото ни ограбиха

                                                             нашите верни водачи.

                                                             Къщи-палати вдигнаха,

                                                             банки, казина, хотели,

                                                             бензиностанции, мотели...

                                                             Кой, къде, кого заграби

                                                             чорбаджия се представи.

                                                             Собственик стана наяве..                                                                                                

                                                             Имаме бряг на морето.

                                                             Нашето море, Черното,

                                                             дето не можем да видим

                                                             ни зиме, нито пък лете.

                                                             С плажове ненадминати

                                                             от богаташите купени  

                                                             за шепа дребни монети.

                                                             Ширят се те по Дюните,

                                                             изпробват си куршумите.

                                                             Други на север поеха

                                                             да си опитат успеха.

                                                             По Златна Вярна  плъзнаха –

                                                             назад не се обърнаха.

                                                             Живеем само с мъката

                                                             на Майчица България

                                                             със фаталната лотария...

                                                             Божичко, виж ни и раздай

                                                             на всеки  според делата

                                                             най-справедлива  заплата!

                                                             .