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                                                   Frihedens Dødsmesse

                                                                                                             Ord & musik: Tom Lundén 

                                                                                       Mørket fanger lyset
                                                                                       på skæbnens spinderok
                                                                                       teatret åbner porten
                                                                                       for den ventende flok -
                                                                                       Vi er gode til at huske
                                                                                        men vi glemmer allerbedst
                                                                                       vi hørte stormens varsel
                                                                                       og skrigene fra vest

                                                                                       Udenfor teatret
                                                                                       er kampene begyndt
                                                                                       Er frihed kun en vare
                                                                                       som sælges for mønt -
                                                                                       Og folkene som kæmper
                                                                                       og kræver deres ret
                                                                                      De stilles op mod muren
                                                                                       og ender livet brat

                                                                                       I Chiles dunkle fængsler
                                                                                       torteres en poet
                                                                                       fordi han taler højt
                                                                                       om det han selv har set -
                                                                                       Og folk blir stuvet sammen
                                                                                       som en kvægflok bag et hegn
                                                                                       og møder samme smerte
                                                                                       før kuglernes regn

                                                                                       Og vi som synker sammen
                                                                                        i glemslens havari
                                                                                        Hvad gør vi for de folk
                                                                                        som kæmper vores krig?
                                                                                        I dag blir et folk kuet
                                                                                        i morgen er det os
                                                                                       Hvad gør vi for at støtte
                                                                                        de andres trang til trods?

                                                                                        Vi sidder i teatret
                                                                                        mens tiden går forbi
                                                                                        Vi holder denne messe
                                                                                        over frihedens lig

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                    

    bifrost

                      frihedens dødsmesse