Freedom now has a Different Meaning

The revolutionaries are now old and wizened
And they dream of causes never won
As the comb bits of left over chocolate cake
From their un-kept scraggy beards
And try to remember their songs of freedom
But the words are buried deep
Inside their foggy, fading minds
And the tunes they try to hum
Were carried far away, in a time so long ago
By the breath, of the westward blowing wind

They still remember painting pictures
As the gathered around meagre fires
Talking of the victories won this day
Fingers that pulled so often on greasy triggers
Are dipped in their screaming victims wounds
They always painted roses
Even the leaves were red and glowing
As the moon tried to hide her face in shame

The revolutionaries blame their losses
On the ones they tried to free
Instead of on the death that
They brokered with their guns
They could never quite understand
Why the men and the women
Grew tired of their little babies dying

The hate that they spouted
Still wanders in hearts and minds
But the revolutionaries are too weak
To even speak of the revulsion
That in their waning hours
Still consumes every thought
That wanders through
Each hard, cold and evil mind

They still cling to a faint hope
That the children of their loins
Will take up the bloody sword
And burn the olive branches
That they now so proudly carry
But it is a different world
And freedom now has a different meaning

The revolutionaries are now old and wizened
And they dream of causes never won
As the comb bits of left over chocolate cake
From their un-kept scraggy beards
And try to remember their songs of freedom
But the words are buried deep
Inside their foggy, fading minds
And the tunes they try to hum
Were carried far away, in a time so long ago
By the breath of the westward blowing wind