Once in every four years we have a little show
We do it often so everyone would know
How free we are to lightly throw away
What we have earned; and to unthinkingly obey
The verdict of the mob that can’t be seen,
That can’t be heard; it’s a mean machine
That turns a human being ‘nto a wheel
Spins its lies and casts its steel.
For a people deceived, there can never be a choice
Those who toil in bondage rarely have a voice
Wake up, true believers, things are not okay,
Wake up, and throw your chains away.
