John Nine Five

The crow with a broken leg limps to the edge of life,
it's a shallow pond with no apparent end.
The broken crow broke his wings flying towards the light.
Because the light wasn't there, because there was no wind...

The lawyers talk, and the politicians lie;
the teachers teach and the poets wonder why.
The trees rustle in the wind and the flowers are cut down for profit,
the penguins walk while the eagle flies.

The bullies bully and the bullied cry,
the restless wander and the lonely sigh.
The lost meander through their lives...

Storm clouds gather over the group of the truly good,
it starts to rain, but nobody thought to wear a hood.
They drown, voices lost to the four corners of the earth,
voices that shine, voices that try, voices that could.

The wolf howls and the moon shines bright,
but the blind man stumbles without the light.

Suns come and go, days pass like snowflakes.
Each unique, but essentially the same...too beautiful to hate.
Some take out the shovel, others turn it red
it'll all melt eventually because destiny is fate.

Nobody remembers a snowflake in a storm,
people don't see it, because where they are it's too warm.
Life is cold, life is inevitable. Life is nothing.

The sailors sail and the Christians worship,
because with just a single flame the world is lit
just bright enough to see where you're going.