A Late Autumn Change

Some are laughin' and jokin', Others sit there chain smokin' while they talk about the good days gone by; The old truths get broken Into lies that turn golden with a smile and the wink of an eye. The young souls trade tokens For the gravesites left open underneath a yellow moon sky. See them old dogs of war As they pass by the door, they’re saluting the prince and the king; Have been marching by fours Through the battles that roar into tales of which minstrels will sing. But like ships far from shore They'll return nevermore when at last those freedom bells ring. There's a flag in the wood That might fly, if it could, over books that the priestess once read; Never knew if she should But she preached of man's good while her gay lover waited in bed. Back in the old neighborhood Where a cross one time stood, they’d hung her until she was dead. Comes an echo of sound From a far sacred ground where the last chief chants out his death tune; In the young village town The folk gathered around for they knew that he'd be coming soon. Near that last little mound The old chief was cut down, but his soul still rides with the moon. They say life's still a game Without asking your name, what you've done, or what’s been left to do; They are caught between fame And the shadows of shame, both get seen from the same point of view. Been wrapped up in the chains Of a late autumn change, and I pray that I'm just passing through.