Seven cars "SCREE!" on by.
The third in line seems to sigh.
White-sprayed letters on canvas gray;
The other tags have less to say.
"This is freedom?"
Who asked the train this dire question?
I humbly submit this suggestion:
Someone awake, who knows the truth
Of shackled minds and stifled youth.
"This is freedom?"
We try our best to build a life:
Endless toil, we don't realize
It only serves to fuel their strife.
Death and taxes; government lies.
"This is freedom?"
From the start they seek control,
Extinguishing our human fire.
School and parents douse the soul,
Authoritarian barbed-wire.
"This is freedom?"
Is this freedom that they allow?
Can they give what is rightly ours?
Free to obey or behind bars.
I've had enough; I won't kowtow.
"This is freedom?"
Without rulers we could achieve:
A golden era of shared prosperity;
An end to political barbarity.
The didactic train takes its leave.
"This is freedom?"
