Frosty da snowman
Bluelighter
Careful to stay on the veiled shadows, treading quietly
Avoiding the sacred light drifting through the leafs
Avoiding the sacred paths of the priests
Following in cadence
Following instep with the chants
Following in the stuttered half shuffle of purpose
Silence follows
A trail of followers behind midget egos
A forest of singers welcoming the breeze
A sea of green harmonized with the procession
Possessed with the mysticism of the moment
Stoked by the fires of shamans
Under the eaves of sanctuary
The promise of dawn and the threat of discovery
The rites begin
Voices rise up, seeking in the afternoon
Calling the clouds
Summoning the thunder
Demanding rain
A highway of tears to lead enemies
Fires light the night
Casting red faces on silent assassins
Behind they stand
Blades raised and quivering
Aching to fill their commands
Rushing comes their leader
Thirsting for attention
He seeks center
A bright flash of light
A sword reflecting with stolen shine
An angry strike
A glint of red
A florescent monk falls
Quickly now the notes of chant fall off
The darkness losing to lightning
The last falling
His voice
The final prayer
Shuffling they leave
Beloved haters
Their bitter work done
Rain finally reaches
Washing us out
To the leaves
The forest
The sun
Our home
We smile
Soon our killers will know us
They’ll remember our songs
Remember our history
They’ll drowned themselves in our language
Borrow our homes, walk our streets
Tend our gardens
We’ll give it all to them as gifts
Save the one they gave us
And years from now on our anniversary
We’ll give it all back
The black box we wished we never opened
The sweet confection
The wilted rose
The bitter pill
We’ll give them back their bitter words
Their hate
Their sideways glances
We’ll give them back the false sympathy
Their half-truths
Their broken truces
And years from now when the winds begin to blow
We’ll give them their final gift
Cause the trees finally have voices
Every bough screams murderer
And we no longer need their fear
Avoiding the sacred light drifting through the leafs
Avoiding the sacred paths of the priests
Following in cadence
Following instep with the chants
Following in the stuttered half shuffle of purpose
Silence follows
A trail of followers behind midget egos
A forest of singers welcoming the breeze
A sea of green harmonized with the procession
Possessed with the mysticism of the moment
Stoked by the fires of shamans
Under the eaves of sanctuary
The promise of dawn and the threat of discovery
The rites begin
Voices rise up, seeking in the afternoon
Calling the clouds
Summoning the thunder
Demanding rain
A highway of tears to lead enemies
Fires light the night
Casting red faces on silent assassins
Behind they stand
Blades raised and quivering
Aching to fill their commands
Rushing comes their leader
Thirsting for attention
He seeks center
A bright flash of light
A sword reflecting with stolen shine
An angry strike
A glint of red
A florescent monk falls
Quickly now the notes of chant fall off
The darkness losing to lightning
The last falling
His voice
The final prayer
Shuffling they leave
Beloved haters
Their bitter work done
Rain finally reaches
Washing us out
To the leaves
The forest
The sun
Our home
We smile
Soon our killers will know us
They’ll remember our songs
Remember our history
They’ll drowned themselves in our language
Borrow our homes, walk our streets
Tend our gardens
We’ll give it all to them as gifts
Save the one they gave us
And years from now on our anniversary
We’ll give it all back
The black box we wished we never opened
The sweet confection
The wilted rose
The bitter pill
We’ll give them back their bitter words
Their hate
Their sideways glances
We’ll give them back the false sympathy
Their half-truths
Their broken truces
And years from now when the winds begin to blow
We’ll give them their final gift
Cause the trees finally have voices
Every bough screams murderer
And we no longer need their fear
