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response to Commander in Theif
Ivans post got me thinking, and not wanting to hijack his thread I started this one.
It seems more and more our government tells us what we can and can not do. Each day another little freedom is given away, we just trade freedom for security like every time we board an airplane, or perhaps freedom for a new school eminent domain, or freedom in exchange for not upsetting someone over the use of a word. Can we even still say the word Nigger? Soon we will have no freedoms left.
I fear for our countries future and for the future of our children.
A little song by the band Rush has always made me wonder what will happen when they outlaw the combustion engine?
Red Barchetta
My uncle has a country place,
that no one knows about.
He says it used to be a farm
before the Motor Law.
And on Sundays, I elude the "Eyes"
and hop the turbine freight -
to far outside the wire
where my white-haired uncle waits.
Jump to the ground as the turbo slows to cross the borderline.
Run like the wind as excitement shivers up and down my spine.
Down in his barn, my uncle preserved for me an old machine - for 50 odd years. To keep it as new has been his dearest dream.
I strip away the old debris
that hides the shining car.
A brilliant red Barchetta from a
better vanished time.
Fire up the willing engine,
responding with a roar!
Tires spitting gravel I commit
my weekly crime.
Wind in my hair, shifting and drifting.
-- mechanical music,
-- adrenalin surge.....
Well weathered leather, hot metal and oil, the scented country air.
Sunlight on chrome, the blur of the landscape, every nerve aware!
Suddenly ahead of me,
across the mountain side,
a gleaming alloy air car shoots towards
me two lanes wide.
I spin around with shrieking tires
to run the deadly race;
go screaming through the valley as
another joins the chase.
Drive like the wind, straining the limits of machine and man.
Laughing out loud with fear and hope, I've got a desperate plan.
At the one lane bridge I leave the giants stranded at the riverside.
Race back to the farm to dream with my uncle at the fireside.
It seems more and more our government tells us what we can and can not do. Each day another little freedom is given away, we just trade freedom for security like every time we board an airplane, or perhaps freedom for a new school eminent domain, or freedom in exchange for not upsetting someone over the use of a word. Can we even still say the word Nigger? Soon we will have no freedoms left.
I fear for our countries future and for the future of our children.
A little song by the band Rush has always made me wonder what will happen when they outlaw the combustion engine?
Red Barchetta
My uncle has a country place,
that no one knows about.
He says it used to be a farm
before the Motor Law.
And on Sundays, I elude the "Eyes"
and hop the turbine freight -
to far outside the wire
where my white-haired uncle waits.
Jump to the ground as the turbo slows to cross the borderline.
Run like the wind as excitement shivers up and down my spine.
Down in his barn, my uncle preserved for me an old machine - for 50 odd years. To keep it as new has been his dearest dream.
I strip away the old debris
that hides the shining car.
A brilliant red Barchetta from a
better vanished time.
Fire up the willing engine,
responding with a roar!
Tires spitting gravel I commit
my weekly crime.
Wind in my hair, shifting and drifting.
-- mechanical music,
-- adrenalin surge.....
Well weathered leather, hot metal and oil, the scented country air.
Sunlight on chrome, the blur of the landscape, every nerve aware!
Suddenly ahead of me,
across the mountain side,
a gleaming alloy air car shoots towards
me two lanes wide.
I spin around with shrieking tires
to run the deadly race;
go screaming through the valley as
another joins the chase.
Drive like the wind, straining the limits of machine and man.
Laughing out loud with fear and hope, I've got a desperate plan.
At the one lane bridge I leave the giants stranded at the riverside.
Race back to the farm to dream with my uncle at the fireside.
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