Freedom

Freedom comes naked and bare,
When the old have stopped waiting at last…
With May’s ripened zeal in the air,
To the powder, the tinder is cast.

Freedom arrives stumbling drunk,
With promises woven of lies.
Dancing, in blood she is sunk,
As she sharpens the knives for the young.

Freedom comes silent and mute,
With a yoke that is polished and bright—
The "People’s Own Paradise" fruit,
A heavy and hollow delight…

So is this the freedom we crave?
Is this what we waited to save?

She marches through ashes and soot,
With a banner of smoke and of lead.
She crushes the earth with her foot,
And builds up a throne for the dead.

The chains that she broke are replaced,
By a brand that can never be erased.

Freedom arrives stumbling drunk,
With promises woven of lies.
Dancing, in blood she is sunk,
As she sharpens the knives for the young.

She doesn't bring peace to the door,
She doesn't bring bread to the plate.
She’s the hunger, the howl, and the war,
The cold, iron hand of our fate.

She’s the shadow that falls on the street,
The bitterest taste of defeat.

Naked and silent and blind,
Leaving the ruins behind.
Is this the freedom we wait for?
Is this the freedom we wait for?

She’s sharpening knives for the young.
She’s sharpening knives for the young.