Gord

2023-09-17 07:37 pm

Was it like this all along? A bird wonders...
Like gawkers, ponders what they saw...

'Would you describe me, inside of a bar?'
'Must again, you make things be so hard?'
'Wasp, like I bumble about the pollen,
Following a humble belief seems wanton,
When you believe in things so violent and wrong.'

Bird, quickly describes in simple songs,
Big cities, things it saw in the puddle, 
Colors of war,  bees that talk.
Freedom, it sings, is also simple, 
One really needs not drift apart.
The big screen, another big scene,
It was mostly a facade...
Balk, talk is talk, feeling in the dark,
But most of what a bird said, lived on,
Proper relief is upon the soul after all...

So they write less of evil on the walls,
In the sky, on maps or village carts.
Against nothing, see the days beyond...
I suppose those concepts are behind us.

Was it like this all along? A bird wonders...
Is the city like a swallow, or like to swallow,
and will he be the next one gone?

Cause for alarm, make calls upon,
Anything, but you lost the one. You love...

Like a dog watching another sun set,
More talk, another sun will rise again,
Life for this bird is but more dogs.
So like a coward, survives the storm, 
Shivering as they make their calls.
Inevitably, to face the power lines alone.