a tune of freedom

light as a feather, falling

a pretty girl

with nothing to lose but her smile

dreams away the hours of the night

hard as an eggshell, breaking

a brittle boy

with nowhere to go but the beach

hurls a stone into the murmuring sea

and no one hears the wind blow

it blows a tune of freedom

tearing through the sleepy streets,

screaming through the leaves of the highest trees

the pretty girl takes a husband

once she dreamed of princes

and palaces paved with mother-of-pearl

but now she knows her cloth-cotton world

the boy becomes a soldier

he learns to fight

he learns the plight of the world depends on him

he learns in life you sink unless you swim

but does he hear the wind blow?

it blows a tune of freedom

tearing over his barrack room,

high above the pressed collar of his uniform

she feels the weight of ages

her home is warm

as she sees to her grandchildren's needs

and cries a tear as they tell her their dreams

his face is proud but soft now

in civilian clothes

there's nothing to do but grow old

he sold his life, but there's nothing he's owed

and do they hear the wind blow?

is that a tune of freedom

whistling round their brittle bones,

the brittle boy, the pretty girl? it's too late, they know

there is a tune of freedom

sing it loud

or whisper it low like a prayer

it calls us all, but no one knows where

lost on the lonely highway

there is a man

with no one to blame but himself

he heard the wind, and he followed its call

written by tom yates 4 july 2002

tom yates – vocal, guitar, cello, piano