The Rising

A cold Easter morning dew, sat upon the ground.

It showed the truth with in his heart, as his footprints led away to town.

He walked away never glancing back - disappeared into the mist.

With a rifle in his hand, her scarf around his wrist.



And the fight that he hides from his family,

the sacrifice he has made for his country, 

will mean nothing, if he can't walk away.

And the pain that's inside shows upon his face,

and the guilt that he hides makes him slowly pace, for his be free

oh, can't they see?!


The struggle for his home and life - out numbered and out gunned.

The politicians give the country away, with no care for what they've done.

Lined along the broken barracks wall down in Old Beggar's Bush,

He slowly gazed into the sky. "There's no hope for likes of us...."