“Every little thing’s gonna be all right.”
That’s what you told us, but it can’t be true.
I’m not calling it lies, but look around.
“Don’t worry ‘bout a thing.” Quite a statement.
So nobody needs to pick up the flag?
Return it to the top of the mountain?
Rise up this morning, and bring the rest down?
Complacent, subservient, no longer?
Arrests for crimes, and set the brothers free?
Smile at the sun, let it burn their eyes.
Let it rise every day to right the wrongs.
Overseeing overseers aflame.
Three little birds. Fragile, safe, and vocal.
Stronger, protected, intensely aware.
Chirping, fluttering, happiness will come.
Onto the doorstep, no more need to hide.
Into the yard, where the battles collide.
Scorched earth and bodies on stakes. We will win.
Singing about beauty, love after war.
The glories we’ll find, no more need to kneel.
With cleansed hands we’ll bow, hand on coat and head.
Purity and truth. Design and intent.
The changes surmount what we recollect.
Listen to the message. Heed our warning.
Passing judgment is the choice selected.