single post related, no meta
Sunday morning, after the revolution
we drove home, made the beds we would lie in.
Pockets full of papers and the papers full of headlines;
(took some pictures just to prove we had a good time)
now Iâ€™m lying here, while the fires still burn outside.
Wake up in the morning, heads full of sleep and we
listen to the news as we drink our coffee.
Didnâ€™t need to be there, you can watch it all on TV,
but now we knowÂ that theyâ€™re only telling half the story,
â€˜cause we were there, we saw the dancing and the drums.
And what they are showing us looks like a battlefield,
but what they fail to mention is why they had to build a wall
all around the leaders, as if they were in jail
or as if they were an empire about to fall.
Friday night, before the revolution,
thought I should call you, thought maybe the solution
was to take my courage and to walk into that landmine,
but three in the morning came and then it was closing time,
and I know you well enough to know that itâ€™s too late to call.
And sure love, love can be a battlefield,
and sure I made my protest, tried to break down the wall:
Inside some countries people disappear, and maybe I am one of them,
or maybe weâ€™re the empire thatâ€™s about to fall.
Five in the morning, sunâ€™s still rising when we
hit the road, gotta get there to make history.
The old Dodge rumbles toward the trouble in the city
weâ€™re dressed for protest like itâ€™s halloween, weâ€™re giddy:
the sun is shining and it feels like itâ€™s a holiday.
Saturday, what a day for the revolution!
Walked into a wall of tears before I could stop them
everyoneâ€™s shouting â€œWhoâ€™s watching the watchmen?â€
Everyoneâ€™s crying â€˜cause the airâ€™s full of poison
but itâ€™s here weâ€™ve travelled to and here we are going to stand.
And this revolution turns into a battlefield,
they have a tea party while we try to break down the wall.
Inside some people the revolution disappears,
and maybe thatâ€™s just apathy, or maybe itâ€™s just easier,
or maybe itâ€™s the reason that weâ€™re gonna fall.
Monday morning, after the revolution
i never called you, my silence absolution.
But now the miles are flying and my eyeâ€™s on the road at hand,
I keep on driving like the sea searching for land,
my tires spinning revolutions that never end.
And maybe youâ€™d be hurt if you knew why I didnâ€™t call
or maybe you were marching too, holding your own sign
and if I had seen you there,
maybe weâ€d have put down our masks,
faced the fear and breathed the air
stood with the rebels by the broken wall
and watched the empire fall.