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Stolen Arrows

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This folk rock epic ballad is a protest against militant ignorance, and a lament for the children caught in the crossfire.

©2002 Rick Gehrke
She brought me sad news
with tears in her eyes
four stolen arrows
and blood in the sky
on a September morning
were thousands to die
by the stroke of a desperate hand

Far away in dumb horror
we watched and we listened
as the takers and the taken
struggled in combat unwitnessed
'til their tangled misfortune
had swept them all mingled
into the uncaring earth

Then the heroes they battled
through blazes and smoke
'til the bones of the
giants in agony broke
and fell on their masters
with sickening blows
that woke up the tiger again

And high in the towers
of ivory and gold
the wisdom of ages
is pondered, I'm told
but the sins of the elders
fall hard on the children
our love warms them not
as their ashes grow cold

With fire and steel
we struck back year after year
with vengeance insatiable
blinded by hatred and fear
like some wounded animal
mindless with rage
no thought for the future of man

And safe within refuge
of weapons and stone
mad confusion held sway
over chamber and throne
but for those left outside
there was no place to hide
no shelter for Aqualung's child

So they with their sticks
and their rocks and their knives
swore they would make us all
pay with our lives
and the drums pounded louder
with each bloody dawn
both sides calling their gods down to save them

And high in the towers
of ivory and gold
the wisdom of ages
is pondered I'm told
but the cries of the children
could not cross the ocean
hard luck for the young
who will never grow old

Now the swords of the mighty
ring out over hot crimson sand
as the weak burn in flames
of our misguided plans
for the power and the glory
and the games that we play
for greed, for God, and forgotten

So the pendulum swings
'til the end of all things
for most of us want it that way,
or so it seems
'til the day it swings back
turning blue skies to black
and the bitter wind whispers our names

Dear Juliana, David,
Dana, Christine
oh where have you gone
what new light have you seen
may some brighter sunrise
find you tomorrow
safe at last
from our own stolen arrows

And high in the towers
of ivory and gold
the wisdom of ages
is pondered we're told
yet the sins of the elders
fall hard on the children
their love warms us not
as our ashes grow cold

©2002 Rick Gehrke

inviata da Rick Gehrke - 30/8/2006 - 00:58




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