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Far between sundown's finish and midnight's broken toll |
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We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing |
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As majestic bells of bolts, struck shadows in the sounds |
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Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing |
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Flashing for the warriors, whose strength is not to fight |
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Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight |
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And for each and every underdog soldier in the night |
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And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing |
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Even though a cloud's white curtain in a far off corner flashed |
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And the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting |
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Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones |
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Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting |
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Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless seeking trail |
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For the lonesome hearted lovers, with too personal a tale |
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And for each unharmful gentle soul misplaced inside a jail |
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And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing |
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Starry eyed and laughing, as I recall when we were caught |
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Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended |
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'Cause we listened one last time, and we watched with one last look |
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Spellbound and swallowed till the tolling ended |
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Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed |
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For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones and worse |
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And for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe |
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And we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing |
