I looked out east this morning
The early light of day was painting the landscape
Much to my surprise the foothills of my beloved Cascades
Glowed with a lovely purple hue
Instantly my eyes filled with tears
As freedom was dying all around me
And the victims themselves
Clamored for more police-state oversight –
Was faint at first, a distant ringing
Like church bells in the neighboring township
The sound bounced aimlessly off the valley walls
Yet each time it struck my ears
My eyes filled and I caught a sob
Deep in my throat
Dylan called them the “chimes of freedom”
But I think they are ghosts of a bygone era
Haunting those of us who remember the dream –
Fascism and dissent rule the evening news
And no one is listening to the wise old bluesmen
When grandmamma is 38 with a “**** it” attitude
And the police shoot unarmed minorities in well-lit streets
Leading with bleeding is seeding discord only
public outcry is for Kayne instead of Kazakhstan
and the CIA led ***** trade
is giving narcotics anonymous new parade routes
truth hurts, like an arthritic hand
gnarled and twisted
in the freedom mist
….better get **** drunk
And reminisce about blissfulness –