8. Where's the Voice
Music and Lyrics by David Ippolito
There was a time not long ago,
As the tide would ebb and flow,
And, wind would change direction everyday,
A voice would swell up from the ground,
A hopeful or an angry sound.
But, you damn well knew it had something to say.
Young men... long hair and shabby clothes.
Young women... with poetry and prose,
Were not afraid to sing what they would see.
And, shout about outrageous wrong,
Or paint peaceful vision in a song,
Or, sing about how "good" the world could be.
But, tell me, where's the voice of youth,
The one that used to seek the truth,
The one that we would hang our dreams upon?
The one that saw right through a lie.
It couldn't change the world, but had to try.
I wonder if it's really gone.
I guess I always thought that when Ill wind would start to blow again
I'd hear that tiny voice I'd heard before.
First rising in a simple song,
And then slowly growing loud and strong.
Until it grew into a roar.
But, where's the voice of future dreams,
That pushed our conscience to extremes,
That never was afraid to shoot the moon?
Young poet proletariat, Who says, "Old man, you can't do that!"
I wonder if we'll hear it soon.
Tell me, where's the voice of the young,
That sings the song 'cause it needs to be sung,
The one that we once hung our dreams upon?
It sprang up from some angry kid.
Could it change the world?
Sometimes it did.
Now, I won't believe it's gone.
That Voice... I won't believe it's gone.
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