"Whose Freedom Is It?"
by Erick Pierce


Visions of hope filled this once great land.
For all time, we were bound to stand.
No other nation would be stronger.
Poverty shall exist no longer.

Give us all your poor, we shouted.
Our supreme power will not be doubted.
Economic success we guarenteed all.
What's this? Have we begun to fall?

Like leaves from a tree in Autumn,
Our great leaders fall, the lot of 'em.
America is in a downward spiral, can't you see?
The once small price for freedom is now a large fee.

But what is freedom anyways? Is it still real?
No longer can we express emotion and how we feel.
"... And justice for all.", it states in our creed.
But this desire we can no longer feed.

Police brutality, they say, is a sin.
And the protesters, they rarely win.
But maybe it is not always the pigs that are wrong.
Equal is the anarchist's violence, while they sing their song.

Dot com this, dot com that. What the hell is going on?
Can't you see the lack of a pro and the abundunce of a con?
Soaring one day, sinking the next. Wall Street's in a ruckus.
People, America's future is relying heavily on us.

At one point in the past, middle class was nice.
Now the average Joe can barely pay the price.
Rising inflation, everything you see is overpriced.
Any hope of success has been chopped up and sliced.

Look around us. What happened to the sowers and the seeders?
Are they the overpayed atheletes and scandalous world leaders?
If learning is a sin, then i surely must repent,
While the teachers of America's youth barely make their rent.

Religion and race sometimes makes life harder.
Even without knowing it, you can become a martyr.
Holy Wars almost seemingly break out everyday.
It's a shame, really. What more can I say?

Humans, by nature, have the will the freely think.
Everyone around you seems to want to make you sink.
Only through money can you be taught. It really makes me sick.
If you can't afford the bill, the school will give you the kick.

You can't get your point across when you cast:
"Let freedom ring!" with a shotgun blast.
The future of America, i must admit, looks bleak.
Advice and comfort, in you, I come to seek.

I'm not alone when I say, "It's time for a change."
People everywhere agree, from the city to the range.
But what can I do, really? I'm only one man's voice.
To idly sit by and watch, it seems, the only choice.

I dream of an America our forefathers thought,
While bleeding for our future, they faught.
Maybe not today, maybe not tommorrow, but one day maybe.
Until then, I'll lay with you, staring over sea.