Native Ride The Tide
Face meets a face, and hand strains the throat.
Vocal chords sway like the waves on a boat.
So write down a lie, and dress it with care,
As slander burns red in your face like a flare.
Gunshots fly, blue bleeds red.
Coroner’s breath, rip out the page.
If third times a charm, then why not the fourth?
Let’s broadcast these lies from the south to the north!
Hand strains the throat,
Utter the words,
That make you (him) the same,
that make waters rage.
Drink the, ivy.
Bitter, envy.
Break the sound with hammers.
Wake the deaf with pictures.
Now we pause for silence,
Now we pause for affect.
