Nineteen Forty-One

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The steel and the fire fell from the sky,
Although we were never really told why,
Few questions were raised by father or son
In nineteen hundred and forty-one.

The newsreels were spun in the same black and white
That colored the answers offered that night
To the few questions raised by father and son
In nineteen hundred and forty-one.

The call was to arms, it came as a song,
We all had the words, we all sang along,
We all knew exactly what had to be done
In nineteen hundred and forty-one.

The steel and the fire have fallen and burned
A thousand times since, but what have we learned?
Only that fire burns father and son
Just as it did in nineteen forty-one.

The dust of the fires, the dust of the years,
The smoke in our eyes, the sting of our tears,
Have turned black and white to shades of dun
In the many long years since nineteen forty-one.

And still we are called to sing the old song
Though some think the words may now be all wrong
And some think the questions from father and son
May not have been answered in nineteen forty-one.

The steel and the fire fall again from the sky,
Again, we are never really told why.
Six decades have passed, or is it just one,
Since nineteen hundred and forty-one?

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