Yarn of Truth
The sky is falling on Wall Street
All manner of right and wrong
Going not going going on indeed
Just pay the piper for his song
A radio echoes from empty homes
The shadows ascend the stairs
Past the wing joint savings and loan
Past the fog of frigid coal kissed air
Sickly sweet teat fed romances
Yarns of truth so fat and round
A blind man could see it with both hands
Sure as thorns on a martyrs crown
After all that is meaningful we find
What nearly kills us makes us nervous
That sight is dearest to the blind
And we only see what serves us
Removing his temporal cataract
Death watches the days and hours
Providing what our lives lack
Incorruptible stopping power
Life’s a slow fall toward the grave
Hold your hands up and enjoy
The company of the brave
Whose dreams we do not destroy
Copyright © Blind Pathos | Year Posted 2013
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