The will of America

Guns will fire,
blood will spill
Soldiers tire.
But not their will.

Not far away.
Blood is mixed,
With freedom’s day.

Tea is emptied,
To start a change,
Never strange;

For the people dying
For what is good.
Freedom crying,
For what it should.

Guns did fire,
Blood did spill,
But a glorious day,
For freedom’s will.

And how far we’ve changed,
From times before.
And rearranged,
What we implore.

As guns are firing,
And blood did pour,
But there is no freedom,
In America’s war.

It’s the will to kill,
Not will to die.
The will to make,
Another cry.

And kill a baby,
Before she’s borne.
Men to the lady,
Showing scorn.

The flags they wave,
Throughout the day,
When no one looks,
Are thrown away.

A patriot sings
One night flings,
And then he goes
To better things.

To gain his money,
Share her wealth.
Not look to see,
Another’s hell.

If in an instant
Something bad,
It changes their souls,
For a weekend’s fad.

The walls were falling
People dying
Business selling
Networks trying

To sell you death,
To sell you pain
So you’ll donate money,
When seeing fame.

And guns were firing,
Blood was spilling
But I will not go to war,
For this standard of living.

Thursday, October 17, 2002