Bear with me while the words rattle around
I see things and the thoughts roll
what am i to do with them all after a while?
dead bodies in a church
collapsing buildings in downtown and flood waters
if a bikini wearing bae in the suburbs is sat upon by a cop does she still have sass?
sensitivity training all around
I want art and beauty
I want the finest chords of the strings to describe how I feel
i want a fine day and roses in the sun
i get coal in the mountains
i get mud in the ditch
wade in son
he never left harlan county alive
is the hope for tomorrow a defense against the uncertainty of it?
maybe. i can still hope for better
for me and mine
and them I dont even know
there has to be somethin better than hating. on each an other
the blood that is in me
the piece of flesh that is me
it is the same all over
and yet here i am
digging coal out of the bottom of my grave
pieces of me I left behind
passing them up the flue
smoke and cinders of me flinging
away in the wind
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