Chains of our fathers.
Chains! O ye chains of our fathers,
Not of gold, not of silver,
Not of diamond, not of pearls,
But of cast iron smelt and rust,
Cut to shapes ugly and choking,
Chains to tame!
Chains to maim!
The generation of humans firece and brave.
Of the ocean breeze I speak calmly of,
Was three times as harsh as I make it seem,
Off the storied hill and hallowed grot,
My fathers wives were made to seem,
Off the Belgium coast and France shoreline,
England proclaimed all men were free,
But with chains and whips they dragged us forth,
In the market square for all to see.
Our fathers fought and died bravely,
Castles in Valhalla is where they rest,
But the chain they broke we gladly wear,
All in the name of been civilized,
To us—whose fathers scorned to bear,
The paltry menace of a chain,
We pick same chains and wear them out,
Adorning our garments with rust and blood.
Fathers fought off their Moloch shrine,
And left no traces where it stood,
They gave their lands the last of our bloods,
And broke the chains of their own fathers,
Oh- my generation is now on twitter,
And our wives all nude on “Insta,”
Children of the free generation
Why do you still wear the chains of your fathers?
Written and composed by xXiv, follow him on twitter @rogue_kvng