So it feels like edge of world taking me home to live

A better place as trouble lingers a short stone a way markers line the streets

Eyes pick up shadows lingering waiting the coming of angels seeking rest

Nothing here but wailing and trash left in bags living to see memories kept

All neat and placed n boxes for wrapping solace kept to perfection lost

Not a smile or a frown on steady final cries of bloods dripping past death

Love mentioned in failing moments before the dawn comes in view of rest and place

Second best was never spent in vile time questioning heritage pulled from the live left

No purpose is ever kept in pretty little bonnets of knowledge dressed for the truth

Schoolhouse on a hill one-room knowledge shared in final redemption fields of corn left

Rotting in vine holding on to the past remarks of work the land spares the rod and spoils the soul

No room of love or hate just a room to make more to till the soil and be owner of the land

Faces trot from here to there as the work grows as the till of soil and bloom take and place more in the coffers of education screaming in the palace of execution and the willing take the rope running

One more to feed to love and hold pain in body and mind work never ends and the child weighs more than the boys in rags seeking hand me downs dirty faces hungry from the taking of so much for so little

Bottle pours hate in portion never ending truth died in the arms of share fades in burrows deep

Prattle fails to measure destine leading past gates dripping sweat futile beads left in wisdom lost

Miser ration gives in like as the road takes silence keeps not grows in refuge crying more back as coal

Fast as old we greet the lapse in energy cast in pockets unknown to story gently past past the dark