fiery chariots try the sky
none of them swing low
like other tribes long ago
we wandered and we wondered
forty years? four hundred
but it does not matter
all wilderness is barren
empty hard and cold
a million ways to day
yet no way to live
we followed the drinking gourd
in the land of promised hope
we found freedom chained
and on the willows by
the rivers of babylon
we hung our harps
hung our hearts
hung our heads and wept
Oh son of man tell me
can these bones live again
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