The lies we grow
Holding on to truth
Until it’s expiration
Renders it false
How can we deal with lies
When they are full grown
What might have been truth
Is no longer
So
Flares erupt
From a distant
Neighborhood
In the galaxy
In the universe
Of stars and planets
We see the burst of a powerful flare
In the telescopes on the ground
How to stop
The making of guns
We have to stop the funding
From which the fountain
Runs
Banks can say no
Not just protests
But asking the right questions
The right people
Can cut off the making
Of weapons that kill
Sweet Sunday’s
Holding on
To the love
Of the ground
And the sky above
Sweet Sunday
Before Monday
Let’s hold a new light
Into the week
Scot-Free
Letting go of troubles
Eternally
How can one man live
In expensive cars
And neighborhoods
While others are punished
And pay time
Some run scot-free
While others due time
We are growing up
In a world
That revolves
Humanity evolves
We evolve
I evolve
Let us not dissolve our evolution
For a cheap taste
Of bad times
Bold as it goes
Holding on to the ones
We need to let go
World in whiplash
Jerking motion
Every morning
Every notion
Leads to the fear
Of tomorrow
Today
Yesterday
The rush
The slurry
Flurry
Of moving pieces
Roaring engines
As one takes
Off
Lands
Slams
Into the ground
As we all fall
If we fear each other
Than we do not grow
Fond of our differences
It is in the uncertainty
Of fondness that we are vulnerable
We let go
We listen
We grow
Let us not fear
Speak
Listen and
Learn
Dirty hand
Never quite know
That in the depths washed
You can not quite get all of the
Dirt
If dirt is on the hands of man
Whose hands toil in the dirt
No notice is paid
But on the hands of a banker
On the hands of a tycoon
We wonder
Where does this dirt come from
The dirty hands
That can’t be washed clean
