CEASEFIRE

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MEANDERTHAL MAN

 

The gun is drawn; the battle commences

Winner take all; no one to feel the heat

Time has come face life’s ugly consequences

Samson and Delilah left out in the street

 

Watch language over threats of mixed company

Full sounded slurs resound like a symphony

Angels flee; the sky too high to scale

The warriors drop heads as they realize bail

To high to pay; free the lonely fighter

Who listens to poems by an old reciter

 

Bite the bullet; carry forth like John Wayne

Voices echo in the night like a chorus

The clouds turn black under pouring rain

Thunder echoes like a charging rhinoceros

 

The devil witin; raging hearts like the beast

Lonely hearts desolate like a house unleashed

Blues of Allah, Jesus and Buddha in the night

Suspended in the sky by string of a kite

Dionysus came forward with a pitcher of wine

A Drink with effects like a dynamite mine

 

The battle takes place over Mars

Poor men with no choice join the union

They notice stickers on the hoods of cars

It’s time to join together in holy communion

 

Search thru the fields for a 4 leaf clover

We’ll come together when the conflict is over

Only now must we bid each other part

A demon spirit hijacks the fragile heart

The time has come to face fires of life

Avoid the bullet; sidestep the knife

 

The wind blows the sails of the next mast

An evil spirit crawls beneath the wave

Like a poached egg at an early breakfast

I gave away a cry for help to all the brave

 

The desolate stranger buried in the rocks

The angels lower him in his sacred box

Over on the hills I find a torn out page

About a scapegoat prophet thrown in a rage

Out at sea, a boat is sunk by missiles

The hearts of the new widows begin to bristle

 

The fever within has come to cough it

Under ground the trains roll on to doom

No one heeds the words of prophets

About children remaining in Mother’s womb

 

Aphrodite bears her son Eros in love

The sacred son we’re speaking of

Lonely life lead on top of the mountain

Old men left to search for youth’s fountain

We’ve only one prophet left to send

And maybe with luck the bloodshed will end

 

Late 1983; early 1984

 

 

 

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