What's after it?

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Free and old,
What have you gained?
Your life foretold.

Free and classless,
You had a dream,
A choice,
too high to dare,
To scream.

You chose the golden cages,
But now comes the new ages.
It's time to fight, it's time to learn.
To teach them,
Of the new lie to burn.

What if, my comrades,
We gain it all.
What will you do then?
Isn't that something to ponder on?

Well I guess,
That's tomorrow's dream
It seems so far,
So let's leave it be.

For now let's fight,
To unscreen,
Our cold winter's dream.

Stand for today and now it seems,
Arms are our way
To dare, to scream.

Scream at the classes,
Scream at the teachers,
For what comes today,
They didn't preach us.
All they do,
And that's all they ever will,
Is to hide us the truth
And hide us the sorrow,
Show us we are not humans,
But models to follow.
All they do,
Is show us yesterday,
A pathetic winner's scheme.

And so we fight,
Fight with the real masses.
And so we fight,
Fight with the silent masses.

Not mobs but men,
Not a war but then,
We are nothing
But lives to lend.

Scholars and men,
Come together to make a den,
A den of learning, empty of lies,
We are all yearning
To make no compromise.

Now as foretold,
Like legends unfold.
Among the desolated streets,
We now uphold,
The gunner's dream.

And as I raise the flag above,
Burning the previous liar,
And through its ashes
Comes one of hope,
Waving so high in the shire.

We scream in symphony,
As we see our dream come to be.

With teary eyes,
I look at my hands,
All worn down and rugged to glance,
But these same hands came to be,
Whatever, that is left of me.

So smiling I leave,
And move through the darkening streets,
And as I see the day drop,
Ik it will never see,
That old horror that used to be
All around me.

But now that we are done,
And my chains broken through.
There is nothing I can do,
But be glad it is true.

Now what then?
Why do I have this new feeling of emptiness,
There used to be dreams to see,
When the chains were pulling me,
Now that I am truly free,
I don't know what to see.

This uneasy feeling of the heart,
Is this what kept them so hard to stand?
We have everything to be,
But we have nothing to be.

What now then?
What am I?
A retired man.

What now then?
What's left to be?
If you have done everything,
That you had to be.

The adventure feels like a routine,
War, a lonely dream.

Am I to just look back on yesterday's dream?
What difference?
What difference did I scheme?

What lies now then?
Love to be?
Well I lost it long before you see,
To fulfill this, yesterday's dream.

And all turned to vague,
After I put everything to stake,
I guess the price didn't mean,
It didn't mean, much to me,
Cause as I hold it,
In my hands,
All I see,
Is nothing to glance.

Sand grains slipping from my fingers,
Into the beach of time,
The rest, swept away,
With the whispering wind,
I finally hear what it says.

Fruitless, all is fruitless
We are but nothing.
Dust to be swept away,
By the wind of time.


~The Dead Revolutionary

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