Chains! O ye chains of our fathers
Not of gold, not of silver
Not of diamond, not of pearls
But of cast iron smelt and rust
Cut to shapes ugly and choking
Chains to tame
Chains to maim The generation of humans firece and brave

Of the ocean breeze I speak calmly of
Was three times as harsh as I make it seem
Off the storied hill and hallowed grot
My fathers wives were made to seem
Off the Belgium coast and France shoreline
England proclaimed all men were free
But with chains and whips they dragged us forth
In the market square for all to see

Our fathers fought and died bravely
Castles in Valhalla is where they rest
But the chain they broke we gladly wear
All in the name of been civilized
To us—whose fathers scorned to bear
The paltry menace of a chain
The whip on our fathers shrinking flesh!
Our soil yet reddening with the stains

Fathers fought off their Moloch shrine
And left no traces where it stood
They gave their lands the last of our bloods
And broke the chains of their own fathers
Oh- my generation is now on twitter
And our wives all nude on “Insta”
Children of the free generation
Why do you still wear the chains of your fathers?

– xXiv

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