There is a cowboy standing proud, almost a man
with cold, iron courage in his hand
He’s on the river bank across from me
6,000 bodies between us in this morbid, crimson sea
Twice as many injured and bleeding still
that wounding bullets didn’t get to kill
The tide of blood is rising, rising day for day
nine more bodies shot dead, shot dead today
I call over to the cowboy and ask him to join my side
to put away that gun and stem the carmine tide
But he cannot hear me, and I don’t understand
he’s gripping iron courage in his hand
So I gather facts like cotton, and weave a solid strand
and try my best to lasso that gun out of his hand
But he cannot hear me, and I don’t understand
he’s gripping iron courage in his hand
Could I build a bridge by stacking stories one upon another?
how boys are shooting children and one guy shot his brothers
how husbands shoot their wives, and this kid shot his mother?
But the cowboy cannot hear me, and I don’t understand
he’s gripping iron courage in his hand
There is nothing left for me to do
than wade into the river
so I take off my belt, my coat, my shoes
and wade into the river
and all the rest I must remove
to wade into the river
Through all the bodies, all the blood, all the tears
Through all the pain, all the hate, all the fears
All the screams, all the grief, and the terrors of the night
I wade through the river till the cowboy comes in sight
I have no plan, no scheme, no dagger up my leg
I have no other recourse than simply to beg
I finally reach his shore somehow,
But I did very nearly drown
And tired and weak and naked now,
I throw my body down,
I throw my body down
Stripped and bare and at his mercy now
I throw my body down,
I throw my body down
“Please, please put away your gun, cowboy
and instead become a man
Trade in your cold iron courage
for these wounds in both my hands
These outstretched palms cheated death, held contempt at bay,
and overcame the cold iron courage of their day”
No comments:
Post a Comment