I feel the wind blowing through my doorway,
It’s telling me that the summer’s gone,
And the winter waits in shadow, waiting with the storm;
I am old and my bones are weary,
And my son he is all I have,
But he has gone to fight for freedom, leaving with my heart;
All my life I have loved this land, worked it with my hands,
But can this freedom send the rain when seed is in the ground,
Can this freedom heal the pain and bring my boy back to me again?
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