Borrowed Ground

<instrumental theme plays in the background The flag's been torn, the colors bleed.

Once we stood strong, now we bend and plead. In echoes of

freedom, the whispers grow faint. While walls rise high,

our voices grow quaint. They circle the wagons, a tempest of

lies. Red caps and gray coats, with uncaring eyes. Promises shattered,

like glass on the floor. While the cries of the lost haunt us more

and more. Oh, we're standing now on borrowed ground.

Where the echoes of justice can't be found. With every right they take,