I hear the wheels a rollin'
they're tearing 'round the bend
to sink into those wetlands
like they've done since way back when.
Oh, it feels like Freedom Prison
when your voice can't be heard
'cause those wheels, they keep burning
and the foul pot's getting stirred.
When you were just a youngster
somebody told you STOP!
but you just kept defying -
Now look at what we got
and you act like it don't matter
just to watch us die -
When I see those wheels a-rollin'
I raise my voice and cry!
When I bring in my young 'uns
I'll surely keep 'em back
to play safe in the forest
where they might not get weed-wacked
or rundown by Self-Interest
that rides above the law -
Oh, what happened to the quiet
that footpath sign we all saw?
(What happened to the sign, Johnny?
Where'd it go?
Where'd it all go?)
Now I'm known to be hopeful
for the big pie in the sky
but down here in the forest
we need an eye-to-eye -
to stop those wheels from crashin'
'cross our hearts and hands.
We'd be better off to hold these
together 'round this land.
Yes, with all of us together
we can preserve this land!
Thank you, Johnny!
Thank you Freedom!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem