The cost of patriotism

Patriots, broken, silent now,
where goes the ox, thus goes the plow,
where have we spent the patriot's blood,
Lost, and selfless in the flood?
By what right do your rights endure,
when you sign them away for sure,
when you make mock of the cost,
how can you know what you've lost?

When the teardrops fall away,
down through time, from day to day,
when the moments, solemn speak
of those that gave, that blood to leak?

We ask but soft to be left alone,
but you ask to build a throne,
the blood of patriots still yet leaps,
though you think the people sleep,
When the bed has grown too rough,
when they see they've had enough,
Down from power's throne must fall,
the evils made by one and all..

When the patriot's bullets fly,
who will live, and who will die?
Can you rouse yet from your sleep,
when what you've sown, you now reap?

Now you hear the patriot's song,
what was stolen, yours all along,
what was kept from your shut eyes,
withers, yet, it never dies...
Can such passions, rouse us still,
or have we finally lost our will?
When the end seems to draw near,
shall we fight, or cower in fear?

In silence springs the memory yet,
of those fallen, lest we forget,
of those who paid the final price,
that we laugh at with our avarice...

And so there comes a choice today,
submit to chains, and simply pray,
or pray, yet standing thus to fight,
drive them back into the night,
how can we ignore the plight,
of those who chained, disappear from sight?
When out loud the angels cried,
to remember the blood of those who died?


When memory mocks the pains of the past,
often their chains return at last,
when the drums of doom raise the crown
shall we fight, or just lie down?