The Dream Died Long Ago But Yet We Still Fight
The dream died long ago but yet we still fight
A dried shriveled grape that was left of the final feast
Roman columns as white and strong as a beast
Skies clearer and bluer than a mind’s eye at peace
This was good and raw the feeling of completeness not ever least
I sat on marble footsteps with the knowledge of courage both intellectually and physical leashed
What now I say to the gods but lead us to another corruption then our sons may feel as powerful and misguided I preached
Is it not the fire of the sun that burns in the sky that wakes us from our slumber and do our hearts yearn for more than always we are all slaves trying to teach?
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