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I was cold asked for a blanket she covered me with herself
I was tired and she granted me a rest in love of her being
I was lost and in her I found the will to pass from the hell
I was cup of the everlasting fear in the world of hate and pain
She filled me with promise of a life in a place of freedom
The hand raise high the torch to the sky all will see
Liberty built not on stone or of brass but blood and tears
Freedom does not ring it screams out and demands
Pick up your cross this is the path and the road is rough
Ideals are formed and forged in the blacksmith's shop of the soul
No one man writes the book or the paper
No one person set the standard to build a nation
No one hand makes the hope live in dreams of better
No one life sets the example of truth in liberty and justice
Many hands with many men build the dream and give it life
Our forefathers laid the paper it is up to us to nurture and allow to grow
Hold the truth of freedom, live the dream, support the dream, be the dream
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