|
We have spent rudderless nights waking up on a sail of regret |
|
Sheets set up upon the bed and angled to the west |
|
Dipped our fingers in the oh-ho! the waters it was wet |
|
Dampness cinching salty curls around the napes of our necks |
|
Punctured by the compass needless riled with certainty |
|
The rescue boats are useless when none of us can agree |
|
Hear the briny call, the ocean's gusty gnashing of her teeth |
|
Breakin' up the pretty cups and taking what she needs |
|
There's a knocking on the hull, you hear it? |
|
There's bones a-rattlin' under us |
|
We set out without the smarts to fear it |
|
With ignorance and gutless trust |
|
Tell me once again if everything is as it seems |
|
If things are getting better, what's that crashing down the street? |
|
The wind you say, the storm that came, remember our retreat? |
|
And darker days might come and stay and signal our defeat |
|
If drug up from the mock |
|
I reel in what |
|
I hope will be |
|
A trove of golden apples from the golden apple tree |
|
Flush with fertile seeds |
|
I give them all away for free |
|
For this our people should be known throughout all history |
|
But from here we crouch and watch the plunder |
|
Of the world we built with sweat and love |
|
Why were you not built for wonder? |
|
Why will you never get enough? |
|
You say when you landed you could tell |
|
That your conquest would go well |
|
Though you wet yourself with fear |
|
You were sure your god was near |