Drone on Mr. Speaker Dance your practiced dance I’m captive to your schtick By direct deposits from above Your asphyxiation
City sleeping quilted by her lights so bright Secure that if she wakes she’ll not be blind Then awakened before
Drink of this my salty cup of potion frail
Long Trail Muffled sounds of gunfire fear, the wails of death Are not yet heard. Still and tall silent sentry
Dreamy thought sublime See it feel it hold it gone Like the hummingbird.
Some days my friend the past will take my hand We’ll walk a mile or two My heart unburdens, Wisely
When one in the forest falls Taller than all the others My sweet Indian friend it calls He knows and