the peadove in the cage with healing wing
is fed and watered given proper care
but other birds have better cause to sing

in open freedom far beyond the ring
of human fences when we who now spare
the peadove in the cage with healing wing

have made the choice to take away the sting
of what was cruel in this whole affair
but other birds have better cause to sing

about the matters that our causes bring
and so their voices carry on the air
while peadove in the cage with healing wing

must be imprisoned though fed like a king
lacking all liberty and full of fear
but other birds have better cause to sing

upon the day we choose this bird to spring
out of its lodge and back into the the air
the peadove in the cage with healing wing
but other birds have better cause to sing

the fraction of the truth that now remains
within the bounds of what we are to speak
is current language words sodden and weak
lacking in power nothing now explains
the meaning of the anguish and the pains
that each had taken before these grey bleak
crowds of oppression forbade us to seek
the honest answers upon hills or plains
a light at noon would show no honest folk
in any corner of a world grown wild
with deepest passion of forgotten art
needing desire and raging for the yoke
to be laid on each grown person a child
once more but coals of hope burn in each heart

believe the voices falling down the rift
of fading memory all lost to time
recall the faces touched with soot and grime
in days so clear and calm they seemed to drift
through subtle air and now all is too swift
hardly a moment between every chime
the downslope now but we were on the climb
and had not valued the taste of the gift
so here the choice is made and in the cold
dark of the rainy afternoon each deep
cutting word is truly cruel in its burn
the message is expected we turn old
and each day must bring reasons more to weep
even this day at eve of sunreturn

all softer magics fall before the lie
that eases into minds and dulls all taste
beneath its glamour we ignore the sky

where carrion birds in masses all now fly
above the lands that swiftly go to waste
all softer magics fall before the lie

we watch the largest rivers all run dry
and wonder just what pain we have embraced
beneath its glamour we ignore the sky

no one's ambitions here would move so high
now our best memories shall be erased
all softer magics fall before the lie

that all will soon be better by and by
when good and sacred words will be enplaced
beneath its glamour we ignore the sky

for far too long and now no honest eye
is left to note the urgent need for haste
all softer magics fall before the lie
beneath its glamour we ignore the sky

the message failed it was not sent

our golden gospel dies unheard

another paradise deferred



on other missions we are bent

for stranger purposes conferred

the message failed it was not sent



to where we wanted where we meant

the sign to go each silver word

fell into silence was deterred

the message failed it was not sent

the turning circle of the years

is so set up that we must fail

must fall into the grinding gears



give up and go with one last wail

lift up our eyes and see our friends

heads bent with tears and then set sail



there's no great purpose that commends

itself to us no message sent

in the pale wintry light that bends



upon our heads and won't relent

lying on the floor in solemn bars

where the sole word is discontent



at night the clouds will hide bright stars

what we have managed is to slowly fail

out of the passion where we did not mark

each fallen moment nor discern the stark

announcement of the coming winter gale

and so were lost now this message is stale

lacking all force and having no more spark

than a dead candle yet we must embark

on one more journey out beyond the pale

to where the signal has not ever gone

that says just what we are or who we were

and thus sets limits on what we might do

that way we're told the battle might be won

or ought to be if only we would dare

step out and act as if the world were new