(McNabb)
|
|
Lo, the poor Indian
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whose poor untutored mind
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Clothes him in front,
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but leaves him bare behind
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Maybe in another year
|
the simple life we lead
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Could become more comfortable,
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or even change completely
|
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Evangeline, your streets were washed away
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You'll never vent your anger,
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We'll await with baited breath
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For something better than we have
|
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Shallow dreams undone
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Fruitless and unsung
|
No challenge towers so steep
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Seven horses deep
|
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A festival came to my town
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and quickly went away
|
Faith contains the seed
|
of lowly tragedy they say.
|
One step forward, two steps back
|
The bango jangles in the subway
|
Some await with bated breath
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For something better than they have
|
|
Shallow dreams undone
|
Fruitless and unsung
|
No challenge towers so steep
|
Seven horses deep
|
|
-----------------
|
Seven Horses
|
| The Icicle Works |
