The bag man opens up and tells all
Rolling cigarettes with pages of the bible.
Little memories little things like teaching
Daughters how to collect bottles and
How to put a smile on a lonely man's face.
What are the men of the fields so
Afraid of? A father learns his lesson
And shares it with a son while he
Digs through soggy shoes to have
A meal that you would call despair.
With luck he'll fill his belly with
Melted glass and scraps of steel and
I'll shake his hand on monday nights
With a surge in my chest and a sword
At my feet, for all that we've killed
He's winning the war by bending his back.
Bar none from this place that hardens
Cheeks and makes hands burn red,
Because here pain washes over those who
Let their arms go and plant their feet firmly
In the sands of liberation. Words flow
Freely when none are concerned and
Set down their knees to give up their turn.
No comments:
Post a Comment