nine eleven
some mother’s babe
born waving a tiny fist,
unknowing of destinyDid you wail angrily from day one?
from the slippery rungs
of a bruised ladder,
it’s hard to find solid groundHate and hurt go hand in hand.
but it was on a Tuesday
in September
when madness made them one
When the Pony Starts to Wander
When the drums start playing
and your head begins to thump,
when the brass band’s humming
and you think you oughta jump
but the wagon is a bouncing
and the wheel’s in a rut,If the senate’s making laws
that just fill their own cup,
and the preacher that you trust
has his hand in the plate
and his pocket’s getting heavy
from the weight of your sweat
and the sun’s going down
on all the dreams that you’ve kept,When a voice in your head
says the road is a veering
and all of a sudden
you know the voice that you’re hearing
is your good sense speaking,
it’s your conscience tweaking,saying “this is what’s real,
this way that you’re feeling,
There’s no new Apollos
Don’t just stand there and swallow,
Lead
don’t follow.
