Give me your young,and I will water the tree.
The blood of patriots will nourish the soil.
And from this will dreams be born.
Shall ambition take shape,and cries fill the night.
Not for help,but for glory.
Not in pain,but for freedom.
Bells shall sound in the streets
Liberty!men will shout as they take up arms,
proud, Now!serve your Nation!
Equality!mothers cry,as they bid adieu.
They leave boys,to return as Heroes!
Fraternity!sisters sing,for they will not be left behind!
Blood flows like a River of War,
the streets share the pain.
For now the tyrants are dead,gone,
and all that remains are the scars.
But this is not the Nation we dreamed of.
Women and children lay cold,never to move again.
The laughter,once so free,is now gone.
It was all for naught.
This is now the cry they take,
for the smoke has cleared,
and the tyrant is you.
The Tree of Liberty,deep has it fallen.
Felled by the hands that sowed its seeds.
For this is the true story of Revolution.
Kings and Parliaments,Presidents and Ministers,
can all change.
Man will stay the same.
Now,give me your wise,and the honest,so few.
And I will Build.
The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots & tyrants-Thomas Jefferson