January 19, 2012
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Clank. Clank. Clank.
The chains move slowly over the dirt, sweat, tears, and blood of the others,

Move it. Move it. Move it.
The guard yells to these prisoners called servants,

Beat. Beat. Beat.
The rhythm of the rawhide as it hits the dissenters with great vigor,

Help us. Help us. Help us.
The prayers to God they say aloud every night hoping they will see tomorrow,

They want freedom,
They don’t care about their next meal,
They just want the pain to stop,

Freedom in their minds is much more than a word,
More than a hope or a dream,
Freedom is something worth fighting for,
Freedom is the right to think and say what you want,

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