Eulogy to Freedom
a couple quick lyrics on encroaching apocalypse
--
funeral home as empty as the life all these formalities inspired
what a waste of one so many others had for centuries admired
maybe it’s alright
if we fail if just a few of us try
weekends in July I rot at home alone and let a rich man get her
for even if she lay with me I’d lie to say she’d ever wake up better
maybe it’s too late
to outrun what is and ever been our fate
I sweat under the sun on broken asphalt paved above a buried graveyard
hallucinating in the heat a superhero or your average savior
maybe no one’s there
and Jesus came about an eighth an age too late to save our souls and so we’re branded cattle where the buffalo are s’posed to roam in freedom
and maybe it’s the end
my family and friends, they open fire on each other and they fall and all lay dying on the street and cry in unison for freedom
