这片尘封已久的黄土，

                                                                 被一群从海上来的人，

                                                                       印上了脚印。

                                                                   可是风停了很久了，

                                                                   黄土无力覆盖这些，

                                                                        恶臭的脚印，

                                                                   总算有人从黄土下，

                                                                         站了出来，  

                                                                  要铲平这些脚印，

                                                                   或是要唤醒黄土的力量。

 

                                                                     乱世中的鲁迅啊。

                                                                     你的一颗心脏，

                                                                     足以点燃整个文坛，

                                                                     可是你还有一颗心脏，

                                                                     黄土的心脏，

                                                                     那强大的搏动力，

                                                                     将那鲜红的血液，

                                                                     通过你手中闪动的长矛，

                                                                     划破黑暗，

                                                                     洒向黄土，

                                                                     将黄土染得通红，

                                                                     恐慌了，

                                                                     竹杆上的太阳，

                                                                     那脚印也在颤抖。