They raised a flag on a bitter hill,
Said, “We’ll be free, come fire or will.”
I held a gun with shaking hands,
A farmer’s son in stolen lands.

They spoke of rights, of God and law,
While chains still clanked in Carolina.
And Native blood soaked Boston’s stones –
But freedom's seeds are sown in bones.

Liberty in red – not white, not blue,
The color soaked in what we do.
We wrote our names on musket fire,
But left the truth beneath the pyre.

(A slow march through smoke and doubt.)

My brother died in a swamp at dawn,
No glory there, just flies and wrong.
They’ll carve his name in marble lines,
But never ask whose land was mine.

We rang the bells, we spilled the wine,
We claimed a crown, we drew the line.
But freedom built on someone’s back
Don’t stand too long before it cracks.

Liberty in red – in blood and rust,
In whispered lies and sacred dust.
We fought for dreams we barely knew –
And still we run from what is true.

All men are born with equal breath…
But some must kneel to give it depth.