Standing in the street he breathes the anger and the pain
Tortured by the heat with hatred rushing through his veins
He talks of summer days and cowards' passive ways
Must he bend his knees or can he really be free?
Free, free

Bell rings at the school and so his children take their place
Teach them by the rule that no one hates an honest face
While just outside the room in asphalt ghetto gloom
A child is born to see that he might never be free
Free, free

Could he and I live as friends truly?
Or is this song nothing, really just a lie to him
The fact that nothing's being done is the circumstance
The time is short and we may never get a chance
No chance

Springtime in the air and sparrows teach their young to fly
I sit in dumb despair with tears of anguish in my eyes
The word of love is true, and it would surely do
If we could only see a man just has to be free
Free, free
Free, free, free
Free, free, free
Free, free, free
Free