Dead Confederate Yer Circus
The trapeze man has fallen
The clowns have gone to bed
Yer' circus turned belly up
Broke its back against its debt
What fools we played to clap hands
For taming tigers tame
Our pulse, applause, adrenaline
For shaking out the names
Names drawn out of empty hats
Sketched lines of dirty faces
When what you see is what you get
Backstage is for the patrons
Leaders spy through soothsayer's eyes
In dark beyond the tents
All we see, our history
Just vapors from liars' breath
The air we breathe when we retreat
Disbanded on safe vacations
Is ten times removed, to thoughts we will swoon
From truth we expel occupation
It's our disease, this death will breed
It's blind asphyxiation
