Basking in Indian Summer (9-11)

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So you want me to go back
Notch the stick a few more times
Open the book I’ve left behind
I gather it was a merciful death
The kind that begs whether you jump
Or be consumed by the flames
Things were so clear
It wasn’t a question of survival anymore
There wasn’t the least bit of room to ask why
There was no branch
And all I could think of was
Hudson being thrown to the natives he betrayed
Or the Prophet Jesus crowned by the needles of drug wars
Or the bombs that Abraham exploded on the idols
How many times you and I stood there
We were teens amazed
Admiring the unquenchable thirst of humanity
An infinitesimal number of tons of steel
Scooped from the womb of the Mother

I am so sad today
And I have reason to be
There is asbestos and terror in the air
There are children and mothers crying
There are markets shut down
And the boys of October have all gone home
Mercy Mercy
You have stolen the thunder from the machine
But the wind still tells its tale
Maybe it is finally time to listen
Because the trees may tell you secrets that no one believes

September 12th, 2013|General Info|

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