February 22, 2011 § 1 Comment

A crimson tide
What blood spillt?
From what evil?
Or what good?

Blue morning comes
But once a year
Amongst the purple
We all sing out
Out to the stars
The ships coming in
To dock and to sink
Their drills in the ground
They come so far
For the essence of our souls
And they take it back
To their far off shores

Which side are you on?
Does it matter in the end?
To which planet do you belong?
I wonder

Look to the sky
The tirade coming down
They have come from the mind
Of so many far away
So give them your hand
Though they may take it not
For up will be down
And back again tomorrow
Forever we are turning
And long into the night
We will survive

A line
A table
A chair
A fallout shelter
All of these things
Are alive


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