On those muggy streets of Bangkok
The thousands gathered
For a protest like none before.
Seeming to forget the all too recent past,
They came full of hope
That this would be the time
When Thais would finally claim
The freedom they deserved.

The coup leader, Suchinda--
How he'd promised to give them freedom.
How he'd promised to fade away
Once elections could be held.

But, suddenly, in sorrow, he was saying
That his country needed him
In it's moment of confusion
And like any other tyrant,
He declared himself the leader.

But Thai means free,
And they poured onto the streets,
Swept along by destiny
Toward the freedom they deserved.

In army bases far away
The news came in urgent, clipped dispatches:
"The mob had kidnapped the King."
Though, in fact, the King was safe,
But watching helplessly.

The troops were sent in scores of trucks;
Sent to liberate
The "City of Angels"
From the wild-eyed "mob".

In their guns were real bullets--
"Rubber ones were much too costly.
And besides--
What good were rubber bullets
Against a wild-eyed 'mob'?"

So the army took their places
Around the hopeful thousands
Who sang and chanted slogans,
And still believed--
Refusing to think of what was coming.

Then the rain of bullets came
The screams,
The panic stricken thousands
With nowhere to run
Learned again
Of the price of freedom.

I remember May. I remember May.
I pray to God that you do.