Up in the hills 
there's an old man who works on his land
with a tough leathered face 
and a lifetime of work on his hands
and he never asked more than to be left alone
with the wind and the rain in his hair
his family at the table at the end of the day
and the freedom to love and to care

now I ask you old man 
there is something that's puzzling me
each day when you work
you stop by the side of that tree
then you look to the sky with a tear in your eye
and a sorrow that I can almost hear
how can it be, that the sight of a tree
can cost your tranquillity so terribly dear

he looked up and spoke 
with a voice that still haunts me this day
and why do ask? 
for there's no one who cares what I say
who are you with the left or the right
the centre the up or the down
they all say the same, it's the other to blame
and all that ever changes is who wears the crown

each time they came 
demanding to set me free
but from what? I would ask
for I am all that I'll ever want to be
but whatever their name, they took just the same
everything I could ever grow
the only freedom I wanted was to be left alone
from being liberated, from what? I don't know

so I worked and they took 
and not once did you hear me say no
for  my children were my life
a poor man's riches you know
but then they filled up the heads 
of my sons with their dreams
and they proudly marched them to war
now they lie their with me at the roots of this tree
yet their leaders return and still ask for more

the reds fight the blues, the blacks fight the whites
but the ending is always the same
no system is wrong, they all sing the same song
when you're pointing your finger it's greed you must blame

© NEMO JAMES. All Rights Reserved
Words & Music by Nemo James