and it comes as no surprise
when you're lying on your back in the field where you grew up
Thinking about clouds tattooed on palms so old
staring into all the holes where God might be
Exploring all the space around you
tearing up the place to find the
questions to the answers and you haven't got the cancer
but you know the burning know the burning
in your palms
The sun is in your eyes
while the river bed it dries
so you lie upon your back and sing the songs of dissolution
The sun is in your eyes
while the field openly cries
to God to God about the poison in its Earth
It can no more give birth to seed to root to bleed to human fruit
it cannot grow or gray or give
it cannot any longer live
The sun is in your eyes
as the Earth it slowly dies
as the madmen hypnotize each other
signing the God songs of war
And sadly,
I don't believe that art, love or lsd can save us.
No comments:
Post a Comment