“Free”

“Here they come, only to go

Busy lives, no time of their own

Children, family, and future plans

Busy lives, no time of their own”

 

Caught up in a fire storm, smoldering ashes float over head

Warmth on my finger tips, an anarchist with a pen

Tight lips, closed eyes, in deep thought

Respect, listen… shut up and repeat

Money has us burying our dreams in piggy banks

Waiting for a ‘break’ to go and chase our passion

Freedom’s cost? Slavery… hour by hour, year to year

That mortgage is your coffin, the funeral, your life

Hope was all that was left, and you sold it to pay the bill

Want to know a secret? Just run away… it’ll be there when you get back

Forget it all, light a match – watch your prison burn

Great things rise from the ashes of what we let go

Chase your dreams, before your only dream… is to be free

 

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