There is a divide out there Not the barking on the news Not the religions Not the races It’s the hands that write the rules It’s the ones who bend our will Trample underfoot those who oppose Smiling while they sign our names On debts we never chose They won’t negotiate at the table They don’t leave us an open seat 4am talking points, marching orders And promises they'll never keep Some call it blind ambition It's a form of tirranny You can spin it how you like It still looks the same to me It's starting, those days are over Hear it rising in the streets You can't steal from empty pockets People are choosing to be free (the people want to be free) There's no “talking it over” Or "whether it depends" We've seen how you handle society It's the con that never ends It’s dictate and manipulate And you're still powerful now The huddled masses will run you over No longer a question of how But whispers will grow to shouts When millions start to speak It's no longer kept under wraps The people are no longer weak Some call it blind ambition It's a form of tirranny You can spin it how you like It still looks the same to me It's starting, those days are over Hear it rising in the streets You can't steal from empty pockets People are choosing to be free (the people want to be free) Hands up Not in surrender Our hands are up To reach out to each other We hear their voice and it's loud Even though they're just a few Now that we're figuring it out They can't tell us what to do Some call it blind ambition It's a form of tirranny You can spin it how you like It still looks the same to me It's starting, those days are over Hear it rising in the streets You can't cage everybody Cause, people want to be free (the people want to be free) (yeah, the people want to be free) Copyright © 2026 by The November Son. All rights reserved.
