Friday, October 07, 2005

The Song of the Still Man

My pension fund’s been plundered by the men who run the show.
Got eighteen years already in, with seven more to go.
The anger wells up in me and I joke about the pain,
Determined not to play the fool, but know I will again.
Still I’m a hard-working man.

Our president’s like ‘Tommy:” deaf and blind as he can be.
He’s focused on the evil axis; numb to poverty.
“Safeguard infinite consumption of our dwindling resources!’”
So to the world’s wretched poor he sends our mighty forces.
Still, I’m a patriotic man.

My Bishop, he forgave the man who fractured my grandson.
Says it’s the Christian thing to do; I’m sure he don’t have one.
Says I can’t confront him, ’cause he’s God’s elect anointed.
Then he tells me to confess as sin the fact I’m disappointed.
Still, I’m a man of faith.

Every leader has betrayed us: my wife, my kids and me.
Telling us to ‘shut up’ and enjoy our liberty.
If we don’t, they’ll take it from us; that’s the message of their song.
So I’m sitting her and wond’ring: Lord, how long; Oh Lord how long?
Still, I’m a patient man

I’m forced to bend the rules from time to time while I’m alive.
Not so me and mine can thrive, but only to survive.
My world’s made up of many diff’rent shades of black and grey.
But I live in hope that for our kids it won’t turn out this way.
Still, I aim to be an honorable man.

Fractured, bifurcated; pulled in many an odd direction,
But hoping yet the world achieves a needed course correction.
I read about the Christ, the Buddha and that old Lao-Tzu,
How did they achieve it; what’s someone like me to do?
Man, I’m seeking to be still.


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