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lakers
11-04-02, 10:49 PM
Twenty years in the jungle has taken it's toll on me.
I'm not the same man I used to be.
But one thing's consistent ... I long to be free.
Please, Mr. President, come for me.

The scars of my torture will never go away.
I'm fifty pounds lighter. My hair is gray.
But the shackles can't chain the freedom in me.
Please, ("mighty") lawmakers come for me.

If my family believed there's a chance I'd survived,
They'd fight to their deaths to prove I'm alive.
Please, lovin' family, come for me.
Some captors say you don't know I'm here,
That I'm doomed to this prison year after year.
God Bless America, the land of the free.
Please, friends and parishoners, come for me.
Other captors say you know that I'm here,
But refuse to accept the evidence, so clear.
Will some caring citizen hear my plea?
Please, fellow countrymen, come for me.

I'll have faith in my country 'till my dying day.
I'll never believe you could leave me this way.
My Country, 'tis of thee .....
Please, please, America, come for me!

-LeAnn Thieman 1987