They won the revolution. To what end I can´t be sure... Gone are the days of the symphony. The cry rang out years ago; A declaration of independence, Very different from the first. Is this really liberty? When each man stands alone? Where once there was love and unity, Now each one looks out for his own? And in each and every community Each one beats his own drum, And strikes the rhythm he pleases Until all that´s really heard Is racket upon Racket, And discord upon Discord. Let´s stop and think a second. Let´s look at what we´ve done. Was this really the end we hoped for? Is there anyone that cares? Is harmony really so old fashioned? Or does it just seem that way? It´s not to late to make a change, Although it could be hard. We´ll have to trade in those old drums For instruments of other kinds. Then listening to those around us We´ll stike a melody.