My brothers died, without uniforms, fighting British and Hessian troops, in the Carolinas, in New England, some in the freezing cold at Valley Forge, because they had a dream that tyranny could be ended and men could live free, live by rules that respected their dignity and worth, live knowing that their government belonged to them and was subservient to their wishes.
My brothers died, fighting against a government that attempted to put them in their places, battling the forces that destroyed the Capitol of a newly formed nation, that tried to silence the message of freedom that had become a paean heard round the world, a song of triumph against those who would control free men.
My brothers died, fighting that most horrible of conflicts, battling against each other, family shedding family blood, until reconciliation, and the recognition that the strength of the new nation lay in its unity, and not in its divisiveness, that good men and true could, in an amenable manner, settle their differences and strengthen their nation in the process.
My brothers died, fighting those who would enslave other lands, battling against Mexico and Spain, the blood of patriots being soaked into the soil of foreign lands, there to fertilize fields of flowers nurtured by the bodies of freedom loving men.
My brothers died, in water-filled trenches, on barbed wire, in open, muddy fields where explosive rounds reduced their flesh to bits and pieces, because they believed that freedom was more than a way of life for Americans, it was a goal to be achieved for the world, and they were ready to make the sacrifice, pay the cost, and rest in Flanders Fields, among the poppies.
My brothers died, in Africa and Italy, on beaches in France, and on a hundred Pacific islands, because they would not bend their knee to tyrants, nor suffer others to be enslaved by monsters.
My brothers died, in frozen Korean winter, in hot Korean summer, because they believed that freedom for all was a goal within their reach, and that the blood of patriots was the cost that must be paid.
I enlisted in 1963, and went to Nam in 1966. And, my brothers and sisters died. Black and White, Oriental and Hispanic, male and female, all religions, and those that professed no religion, for the cause of freedom, freedom for others, and the names of my brothers and sisters are writ on cold black walls.
But this time, my country failed me, me and my brothers. The war was lost. And my brothers began to be sent to war, to police actions, to foreign lands to die, and not allowed to realize freedom for those enslaved. Politics, not freedom, became the byword, by which patriots were sent to shed their blood on foreign soil.
My brothers and sisters are dying, shedding blood in their homeland, as the government they formed, the government they fought for, the government they died for, turns its back on their essential freedoms, their guaranteed rights, works to strip the citizen-soldiers of their defenses, and sends them out to die, not in a foreign land, but in the streets and stores and homes of the country their blood and courage created.
Let Freedom Ring!
But the peals of freedoms bell become more muffled every day, as the government we created seeks to still its noise forever.
My Brothers Died. And they look down upon me, waiting, and wondering, will I, and my brothers and sisters left alive, let freedom from tyranny be heard again throughout the land? Or will the only sound left be that of silence, the silence of the lambs, led to slaughter, for daring to still believe in
freedom?
------------------
When they try to take away my 2nd Amendment rights, tell them Hell's comin' and I'm comin' with it! Armed and Dangerous
My brothers died, fighting against a government that attempted to put them in their places, battling the forces that destroyed the Capitol of a newly formed nation, that tried to silence the message of freedom that had become a paean heard round the world, a song of triumph against those who would control free men.
My brothers died, fighting that most horrible of conflicts, battling against each other, family shedding family blood, until reconciliation, and the recognition that the strength of the new nation lay in its unity, and not in its divisiveness, that good men and true could, in an amenable manner, settle their differences and strengthen their nation in the process.
My brothers died, fighting those who would enslave other lands, battling against Mexico and Spain, the blood of patriots being soaked into the soil of foreign lands, there to fertilize fields of flowers nurtured by the bodies of freedom loving men.
My brothers died, in water-filled trenches, on barbed wire, in open, muddy fields where explosive rounds reduced their flesh to bits and pieces, because they believed that freedom was more than a way of life for Americans, it was a goal to be achieved for the world, and they were ready to make the sacrifice, pay the cost, and rest in Flanders Fields, among the poppies.
My brothers died, in Africa and Italy, on beaches in France, and on a hundred Pacific islands, because they would not bend their knee to tyrants, nor suffer others to be enslaved by monsters.
My brothers died, in frozen Korean winter, in hot Korean summer, because they believed that freedom for all was a goal within their reach, and that the blood of patriots was the cost that must be paid.
I enlisted in 1963, and went to Nam in 1966. And, my brothers and sisters died. Black and White, Oriental and Hispanic, male and female, all religions, and those that professed no religion, for the cause of freedom, freedom for others, and the names of my brothers and sisters are writ on cold black walls.
But this time, my country failed me, me and my brothers. The war was lost. And my brothers began to be sent to war, to police actions, to foreign lands to die, and not allowed to realize freedom for those enslaved. Politics, not freedom, became the byword, by which patriots were sent to shed their blood on foreign soil.
My brothers and sisters are dying, shedding blood in their homeland, as the government they formed, the government they fought for, the government they died for, turns its back on their essential freedoms, their guaranteed rights, works to strip the citizen-soldiers of their defenses, and sends them out to die, not in a foreign land, but in the streets and stores and homes of the country their blood and courage created.
Let Freedom Ring!
But the peals of freedoms bell become more muffled every day, as the government we created seeks to still its noise forever.
My Brothers Died. And they look down upon me, waiting, and wondering, will I, and my brothers and sisters left alive, let freedom from tyranny be heard again throughout the land? Or will the only sound left be that of silence, the silence of the lambs, led to slaughter, for daring to still believe in
freedom?
------------------
When they try to take away my 2nd Amendment rights, tell them Hell's comin' and I'm comin' with it! Armed and Dangerous
