there was a time when the old folks all died,
and their love and their labor paved the way for youth, not saviors.
now we're blue, so black and blue,
red with anger too, and flushed with all you counted on.
now is the time for old grapes to change to wine.
mashed and battered by resilience of old ideals and turpintine.
soaked to bone and all alone in a tomb not meant for life- not anymore.
some old harlot queen-
rows of rotten teeth
a colossus king-
sedentary.
headstones in line, graveyard vines tangled entwine
all the men who made this city, before it was our time
stone by stone, and brick by brick
straw by straw and stick by stick
wolves blew it down..
the sermon rings out true for all the sad ones in the room
while the happy think of life beyond that same old holy gloom
hands to god, and far beyond the pulpit all their eyes and ears are so damn focused on
some old harlot queen-
rows of rotten teeth
a colossus king-
sedentary
was it God, or just a man?
who came 'round the town again, again
was it God, or just a man?
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