Stories Of Old

I don’t want to hear your stories of old. Don’t show me your golden chains
For if there’s just one man in this whole wide land and he is living in pain.
Oh, then freedom’s not your name
You told me of a dream that I would surely like to see where each man could
keep the wolves from his door
Then I saw an old man without a dollar in his hand, saying, «You don’t need me
anymore
I guess you just don’t need me anymore.»
I don’t want to hear your stories of old. Don’t show me your golden chains
For if there’s just one man in this whole wide land and he is living in pain.
Oh, then freedom’s not your name
We’ve got a lot of pride and that I can’t deny from those who bore us liberty
But if freedom’s at the door and we let it wait some more
Oh, I wonder how proud they are of me. I wonder just how proud they are of me
Go ahead and walk away. Yeah, turn your back and say, «We'll show 'em whose got
who on the run.»
But, if we could talk with folks out there, we might get somewhere
And maybe someday we could throw away these guns. Someday we could throw away
these guns
I don’t want to hear your stories of old. Don’t show me your golden chains
For if there’s just one man in this whole wide land and he is living in pain.
Oh, then freedom’s not your name
If there’s just one man in this whole wide land and he is living in pain, oh,
then freedom’s not your name