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I beat my drum

Liberty's picture

I beat my drum for the time has come,
the fever has still a few years to run,
the country is still drunk on rum.
But the time has come, to beat my drum.

I've seen a man who started Right,
he was so wrong when he was in the right.
He voted for this stupid war,
but he doesn't believe that anymore.
Was it shining eyes and flaxen hair,
that made him see that this world is not fair.
While the President he may not become,
he picked it up, and beat his drum.

I heard a man from Mark Twain's home,
who cried for the constitution,
almost alone.
He said that crimes were crimes and law was law,
and that amendments were write with pen and not with a saw.
He was not heard in those frantic days.
But no matter what anybody says,
it's for his voice that lady liberty prays.
He is gone back to where he did come from,
but he was on the march, to beat his drum.

There was a man who wasn't there
whose voice was hollow in the air.
While he was not presidential,
he asked some questions consequential.
For simple words, for simple folk,
why do they live under bankruptcy's yolk
and live in fear of doctor's care,
tormented by Reagan's truth or dare.
He may not achieve greatness when all is done,
but he has never stopped upon his drum.

There was a man from desert lands,
with a few supporters in devoted bands.
He spoke two truths that we should know,
that from Iraq it is time to go,
and to the people give that simple thing,
an honest doctor is not a luxurious golden ring.
But he was ignored, those his voice grew numb,
as he took up the cause upon his drum

So now we're left with only two,
who liberal quotes they do eschew,
and only when by polls are stung,
will freedom's bell from their pulpits be rung.

I'm tired of these two who swing with every breeze,
while the poor and aged are left to freeze,
while their rich friends do as they please,
and the country staggers to its knees.

We don't need followers, or people deaf and dumb.
We need those who will cry out,
and bang the drum.

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