Part IV

Free men will fight their liberties, 

When their victories fade from living mem’ry. 

They’ll look, from shoulder to shoulder, 

And see chains where there is only duty and honor. 

“Cast these chains aside, I am no slave,”

But with no history, he is easily made, 

To break the Twin Flames, keep one, toss the other, 

And if he succeeds, we’re bound for another, 

Long hard crawl to the Freedom Door, 

Maybe forever, 

Maybe forevermore. 

Pain and suffering, 

Leads to rebirth and renewal,

Away from the void, 

And into the future,

A future burning bright, 

So take it, and make it yours

Your story is a weapon, 

In the war of ideas.

Why else would they silence you, 

In the midst of your pain?

Because pain is the means, 

To make heroes from nothing.

Cower if you want, cover you eyes,

But if you tell yours, I’m gonna tell mine,

Stand strong, do not give in to silence,

Your story is a weapon, in the war of ideas!

No kings, no slaves, no tyrant overlords,

When fourscore and fourscore,

And fourscore and seven years before,

We were the first to hold the Door.

And as our forefathers foretold,

When it stands, 250 more.

When the slavers of the Radical South, 

Needed a good kickin’ in the mouth,

We won and said never again.

The liberties won, we locked ’em in. 

In times of war, you hold the Door, 

And when it stands, 250 more. 

When those needle-necked little Nazis, 

Needed a knifing at the knees, 

And Europe needed liberating, 

It was our flag they were celebrating.

In times of war, you hold the Door, 

and when it stands, 250 more.

 

The arc of the moral universe is long, 

but it bends towards Justice, 

What MLK didn’t say, but had to show us, 

Is that if the Twin Flames pull too far apart, 

The Law of the Jungle is at the heart, 

Of what’s on the other side of that Door, 

So hold both flames, loosely, and move forward,

Away from the void, away from destruction,

Down with these walls! Down with apartness!

If times are hard, you hold the Door, 

and when it stands, 250 more.

 

Now we have a Radical Orange, 

And as we learned in school, 

Nothing rhymes with orange. 

But what’s happening now? 

Rhymes with what came before, 

When every time, we held the Door.

Now we have rich, bored people, 

And their fake neutrality,

They go along to get along, 

And make some money.

If the glove fits, 

Call it what it is!

So many Brilliants, 

With their minds twisted into pretzels.

I’m sick of Pretzel Men,

With their Pretzel Agenda.

In a fight to the death, 

Know what time it is!

They won’t deal in facts,

These opinionated monsters,

What do we say to that?

Grow a spine, motherfuckers!

Those in charge will rot in Hell,

But if this stands, we’re damned as well.

Hold both Flames, stand in the breach!

If the President’s a bad egg, you must impeach!

Why else would they silence you, 

In the midst of your pain?

Because pain is the means, 

To make heroes from nothing.

When fourscore and fourscore,

And fourscore and seven years before,

Our heroes became a simple instruction,

	A sacred hope,

	Just waiting to be found,

	When they’re needed the most:

For one more year, you will hold the Door, 

And if this stands, 250 more.