Of all the cars that make this train I had to pick the one With broken air conditioning Beneath a gloating sun. The car feels like a furnace now, The window’s out of bounds Though all this heat must surely beat Emergencies around. It’s true we’re free to leave this car And amble over where The air is cooler than the folks Who don’t see that it’s there. But here among the grumbling few Inertia is king; We sit and fume and fret to feel The perspiration spring. On brows we thought reserved for palms And wrinkles wrought in lead By hands advancing time reminding us That Tuesday’s dead. But there’s a hidden mercy here That warns a heedless heart, One wont to stay when wisdom lies In choosing to depart.
Not so much what is written But how it’s read Not so much what is spoken But left unsaid
Awakening to sounds of foremost light I feel the stories tear into my soul Of someplace where the sun fell on the night To vaporize a family once whole. I see their faces turned up to the sky And wonder if they ever wore a smile, Or had they even watched another die Yet never thinking they would. All the while The images of death and grieving drain The little melatonin left in me Until these deals of Prime Day turn my brain Away from where my heart would rather be. If only there were great discounts for peace, We’d know the real meaning of increase.
Yes the sun is still shining Know the waters are cool Hey it’s just hay, won’t go away So dip in your toes, brother fool
Fire in the skies Rubble on your street Water in your eyes Washing out deceit Sweet be your patience