We have spent rudderless nights waking up on a sail of regret
|
She'd sit up, upon the bed, and angled to the west
|
Dipped our fingers in, oh, the water, it was wet
|
Dampness and shame, salty curls around the napes of our necks
|
|
Punctured by the compass needles, riled with certainty
|
The rescue boats are useless when none of us can agree
|
Hear the briny call, the ocean's gusty gnashing of her teeth
|
Breaking up the pretty cups and taking what she needs
|
|
There's a knocking on the hull, you hear it
|
There's bones a-rattling under us
|
We set out without the smarts to fear it
|
With ignorance and gutless trust
|
|
Tell me once again if everything is as it seems
|
If things are getting better, what's that crashing down the stream
|
The wind, you say, the storm that came, remember our retreat
|
And darker days might come and stay, and signal our defeat
|
|
If drug up from the muck, I reel in what I hope will be
|
A trove of golden apples from the golden apple tree
|
Flush with fertile seeds, I give them all away for free
|
For this our people should be known throughout all history
|
|
But from here we crouch and watch the plunder
|
Of the world we built with sweat and love
|
Why were you not built for wonder
|
Why will you never get enough
|
|
You say when you landed you could tell
|
That your conquest would go well
|
Thought you wet yourself with fear
|
You were sure your god was near
|
|
The wind, you say, the storm that came
|
And darker days might come and stay
|
|
-----------------
|
The World Is Falling
|
| Mirah |
