We Took the Lead
For the horses drowned in rising clay,
Rotted whimpers tear to say;
‘Never will we run again,
Bleached and boned, here we remain,
A fitting end to servants strife,
A paper cross without a name.’
To the children burned upon the hill,
And the heavy chorus that echoes still;
'Enjoy the fire that eats the youth,
We’ll crack and fall and then by noon,
The smoke will spire and you will know,
The weight of this will rest on you.'
For the martyrs forged in ill deceit,
And the hollow song that rings defeat;
'Don’t mourn for us, we craved this end,
The cold embrace of cherished friends,
The earth will calm and hold us high,
The right to die, we’ll still defend’
To the workers hung as marionettes,
Rusted words their final debt;
'We who swing to the light of dawn,
Who grew too sick and tired to mourn,
We’ll tie the rope, you swing the latch,
And dance for freedoms not yet born.'
