Freedom: Lost?

I might say a few pretty words about freedom
Assign each letter color, paint the picture;
I could throw out a few lines for the white
Lines that divide the highway
I could sprinkle them with wild sage
And tell you that I did it all my way.
I could fill up my cup and pour out the curses
I could tell you about the wild freedom that 
Comes with a full tank or the quiet one that is
Bought with heavy bags and full purses.
I could lean to the left as I drink my wine
Shout 'To life! To Freedom! To life!"
While the world bends over backwards
To take the milk and the honey out of mine.
I could study my books and tear all the pages
I would tell you about my life of crime
And of sorrow's salty wages:
But I am eating dry crackers and ignoring the chatter
Of other people who want to take a knife to heart of the matter
And exorcise some freedom with a bloodied hand
And talk about driving the original people out of their own land. 

If you want me, I'm busy, I'm sewing coins into my sleeves
I am looking out my window and wondering if the trees
That have seen more than one disaster are going to look 
Out upon another: I want family, not martyrs.
I have no desire to be my own mother. 

If you want me, I suppose you will come get me 
If you want me I guess you will knock
If you want me I'm lighting a candle
While you ready your tomatoes and stocks. 
I do not have a spare toothbrush to scrub any streets or graffiti, 
I will not be bowing my head or staying out of the streets of the City.
I will wear my life around my neck and my heart on my sleeve.
I have set places at my table for those who can't leave. 
I time my outings to the early morning hours,
And I get back in time to arrange freedom's yellow flowers. 

I realize I was not once free, but instead I was lost
And lost, whilst not freedom, was perhaps good enough. 
"Walk like an Egyptian' drifts from my poxy radio
I bow my head and laugh my tears and onward I do go.