No Liars, No Kings - aeZer

他們教我們低頭，也教我們該恨誰。〈No Liars, No Kings〉寫的是當一個世代終於開始質問那些被稱作真理的聲音——我們不需要新的王，也不需要把世界燒掉，只需要停止把恐懼當成秩序。

They taught us where to stand,
which hand to raise,
which names were clean,
which names to hate.
Nobody taught us
what to do
when the voice behind the flag
was lying too.
We learned obedience in folding chairs,
fluorescent mornings, borrowed prayers.
Maps on the wall with borders drawn
like every line had always belonged.
They gave us heroes without their scars,
gave us enemies shaped from ours.
Said, “Keep your head down, you’ll be safe.”
Funny how fear learns every face.
Then truth got quiet.
Rumors got guns.
Everybody pointed
at everyone.
We were children
when they taught us the script.
We got older.
We stopped reading it.
No liars.
No kings.
No hand around another throat
calling itself peace.
No masters.
No saints
who need a frightened crowd
to make their heaven safe.
Your throne is only borrowed dust.
Your walls are only borrowed trust.
No liars.
No kings.
Just ordinary blood—
and the right to sing.
We bleed the same.
We bleed the same.
So tell me—
who taught us
to hate the same?
At dinner, someone lowered their voice.
Next door became a dangerous choice.
One wrong color, one wrong name,
and suddenly the street had changed.
The evening screen kept score of blame,
a different villain every day.
Old friends learned to speak in codes.
Mothers checked the locks at home.
They made a gospel out of doubt,
then sold salvation by the shout.
Every slogan needed someone beneath it.
Every kingdom needs you
not to see it.
But memory isn’t theirs to own.
My father’s hands.
My neighbor’s home.
The names they crossed out
still had faces.
The people they erased
still left places.
No liars.
No kings.
No hand around another throat
calling itself peace.
No masters.
No saints
who need a frightened crowd
to make their heaven safe.
Your throne is only borrowed dust.
Your walls are only borrowed trust.
No liars.
No kings.
Just ordinary blood—
and the right to sing.
I don’t want your martyrdom.
I don’t want your promised land.
I want the kid across the street
to make it home
without explaining who he is.
I want a mother at the door
to hear the key
and know it’s only her child coming in.
I want history with all its stains.
No halo.
No convenient names.
If truth is sacred,
let it survive a question.
If power is honest,
let it survive rejection.
We are not your pieces.
Not your proof.
Not the bodies
you spend for truth.
Not your echo.
Not your prey.
You taught us fear.
We learned to stay.
You taught us silence.
We learned to say—
No liars.
No kings.
No mouth is born beneath another.
No bloodline makes a throne.

No masters.
No saints.
No country needs a lie
to call its people home.

Let every borrowed kingdom rust.
Let every frightened god lose trust.

No liars.
No kings.

No need to burn the world—

just stop
kneeling to it.

We bleed the same.
We grieve by name.

We don’t need one more enemy
to know from where we came.

No liars.
No kings.

Just people
learning how to speak.

They taught us how to bow.

We learned
when not to.

No liars.

No kings.

No more.