Ballad
This is not a real story , just a comment on insane actions we often see in papers these days.
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It all began for this young man,
as fires raged outside,
Nineteen sixty one it was and,
he was born with pride,
Within the gables of that house,
The cries of mom and child.
For sixteen years she nurtured him,
until he ran away,
He wandered ‘round for seven years,
and then he stopped one day,
A voice inside his head told him,
This place is where you’ll stay.
Voices only come to them as,
profits or as fools,
For in the heart of everyone,
resides some solid rule,
But for the sage and profiteer,
The voice becomes the tool.
The voice inside his head told him,
this place is on your charts,
No greater man than you began,
this message to impart,
A fire rages in your soul and,
this is where it starts.
At twenty three he’s just a boy,
the locals might have said,
Had they not seen what he had done,
and what’s inside his head,
The building he burned to the ground,
and all inside were dead.
Voices only come to them as,
profits or as fools,
And for this one the voice did come,
to torment and to rule,
"I command you to do this deed,
and lay to waste this school."
Copyright © David Byrne | Year Posted 2010
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