Crying Blood

Playing fiddles
or playing golf
representatives of a represented state
of the indifferent
say what you will about love
and say what you will about hate
force those sides to take sides
and churn in their disdain
drown in the numb
and drowning in the debts to be paid
sinking in the corners
pointed fingers and all that discord
the representatives dont represent anything
anymore
just play fiddles and play golf
and someone keeps score
take notes and keeps record
at the ledger boards
don’t speak to soon
or just don’t speak at all
while tears turn to blood
and the old angers call
call for their vengeance that’s been unearthed
and somehow we are all the enemy now
while the represents don’t represent
they just play and whistle on the while
chessboards and pawns
everyone in the dark waiting on their dawn
cut my throat and watch me bleed
but neither you nor I was the enemy
in the dark days I held onto the light
but my battle never ever was
in the theater where they held the fight
look back further and
further still look
look how many times the enemies just took
playing golf or playing fiddles
painting pictures or spinning riddles
cutting throats and making symbols
and we all bleed or cry
or crying blood
I see
I saw as I gasped above the flood
playing golf, playing fiddles or playing darts
anyone will do
and anyone will
be it sword, be it famine
be it forced race wars
or be it old cold iron curtains
the house of cards getting blown
and as we scatter…hey
but the game players are already known
as they whistle and play their cards
as they feign concern
while they play their darts
as they make jokes
and play their golf
blood tears flood the sands
blood tears
while they cry for blood

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