a tune of Freedom

light as a feather, falling
a pretty girl
with nothing to lose but her smile
dreams away the hours of the night

hard as an eggshell, breaking
a brittle boy
with nowhere to go but the beach
hurls a stone into the murmuring sea

  and no one hears the wind blow
  it blows a tune of freedom
  tearing through the sleepy streets,
  screaming through the leaves of the highest trees

the pretty girl takes a husband
once she dreamed of princes
and palaces paved with mother-of-pearl
but now she knows her cloth-cotton world

the boy becomes a soldier
he learns to fight
he learns the plight of the world depends on him
he learns in life you sink unless you swim

  but does he hear the wind blow?
  it blows a tune of freedom
  tearing over his barrack room,
  high above the pressed collar of his uniform

she feels the weight of ages
her home is warm
as she sees to her grandchildren's needs
and cries a tear as they tell her their dreams

his face is proud but soft now
in civilian clothes
there's nothing to do but grow old
he sold his life, but there's nothing he's owed

  and do they hear the wind blow?
  is that a tune of freedom
  whistling round their brittle bones,
  the brittle boy, the pretty girl? it's too late, they know

there is a tune of freedom
sing it loud
or whisper it low like a prayer
it calls us all, but no one knows where

lost on the lonely highway
there is a man
with no one to blame but himself
he heard the wind, and he followed its call