They’ll drink from our bones
Singing songs
Not sold on phones
Some of those new ones
Forged in the hardest of times
We wrote with bloodied hands
Forged in the eyes
Stories
Memories
Of hard things done daily.
Maybe some lies
Like democracy
And future
Shouldn’t be stolen so easy
I never thought to neighbor
As police left us afraid
Night after night
Didn’t need to know
Three is the answer
To how many hate crimes
Too much for week
No managers handbook
For breaks in the soul
You left us
Servants of the civil
Left us as garbage
No sorry
No care
While ours
Stood by
Could not be trusted
Because the rot went too deep
In dysfunctional places that hurt
Degrees and degrees of harm
Can I be part of that?
Can I write those songs
Or is that rot too deep?
Another goodbye?
I am so tired –
When will this match be list?
New songs
Should be put before open flame.
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