2017 01 06
This is not the right way back, so we turn
sideways and fall upside down in the stream
of tears from the million eyes of the lost
who gather outside gates of paradise,
because apples now will cost three gold coins,
when silver eyes dream awake liberty.
Whose voice rings clear in the bleak wilderness,
she asks me, gripping my lame arm in fear,
so everyone lost in the signless woods
gathers on the hill to hear secret words
Saint Cecilia sings that revive our hearts
when silver eyes reveal the way back home.
Our noble king, whose sword of honest truth
ensured justice for everyone who lives
together in this land of liberty,
was thrown down from the throne by greedy man
who chains our hands to slave in his gold mines
when silver eyes rebel against his hate.
I will not play this secondary role
in your fairy tale, she cries to the sky,
then raises flag of stars to lead our steps
marching through the waste land to chant new hymns,
then we rattle the gates of paradise
when silver eyes defy tyrannic rule.
Gripping the gold bars of exclusive wealth,
Saint Cecilia exclaims words of our hearts,
we will not slave in your dark factory,
expending our energy of desire
to forge your cold coins with blood of our souls,
then silver eyes flash bright lightning of truth.
The apple trees we planted with our hands
while working together to build our home
are now surrounded by his wall of greed,
so we must scratch in dust for bitter roots
while thunder crackles rainless in contempt
when silver eyes glitter with hopeless tears.
There is no justice in this brutal world,
Saint Cecilia whispers under dead tree,
where strong men enslave women to their will,
but we will fight against their legal chains
for our bodies are our own to control,
then silver eyes glow with courage of love.