Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Wounded Town - song



I remember being old,
some needles and a cane.
Seems as though I’m younger now,
a spirit that remains.
So, I leave this world behind,
my bones beneath a mound,
and I don’t regret the life I spent
in wounded town.

Poured some coffee in my cup.
Keep it black and strong.
Get my work boots, caked with yesterday.
Today seems just as long.
I’ve got no time for breakfast.
Couldn’t keep it down
on my way to work today
in wounded town.

In the future building’s shadow,
in the echoes of the trees
are the fainted sounds of freight trains,
of glass and broken knees.
We are kings, and queens, and princes
of broken, bruised, and bound,
but here we call it breathing
in wounded town.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Ross, i loved it, keep up the good work. Anna's mom.

DC Cardwell said...

It's great. There's nothing sappy or mawkish about it, and it's probably good that it's quite non-specific, although knowing what it refers to does give it added poignancy. I could easily imagine covering it! Excellent work as usual, Ross.

Scott said...

Damn, dude ... tear. Just beautiful.