When backpacking, there are certain
rules that everyone knows like
take less than you can carry;
you’ll pick up things as you go.
Be careful when hitchhiking;
follow your gut instinct. Always.
Stick to your budget;
you don’t wanna run dry in Kansas.
What no one actually tells you is:
Don’t fall in love
with a town or
with a boy in a town.
A boy who is settled and nestled in a town is dangerous.
The other roaming, free-loving boys are fine, because
they understand and you understand
that, like a Lynyrd Skynyrd song, your
both freebirds who must be traveling on.
These boys are easy to love and set free.
Townies, on the other hand, are like rose-colored poison
which seeps into your every thought,
but then you don’t really mind.
They show you that their quaint little town
doesn’t just look like magic.
It is magic.
They show you that there’s something beautiful in
greeting the mailman with
“how’s the wife?”
the charming town diner
where the pie is county-famous
the declaration of love on the water tower
written in red spray paint.
The boy shows you how to fall in love with a town,
and in the town you fall in love with the boy.
They should start printing warning labels on backpacks:
WARNING: don’t fall in love with a boy
who is settled and nestled in a pint-sized town
because he will clip you wings.
We gather here in the square, for what we believe.
There are shots and bangs but we still remain.
We stand together, all are united.
If death shall come, I will still stand firm.
Until our voices are heard, we shout – we shout!
A place of pride and dignity.
Dealing with the same tools as the one before
We left before it was finished.
“This is a warning! Leave! Go home!”
We will stand as the pyramids strong and forever.
They try to sweep us away like sand,
but firm we will stand.
The battle is in the images.
The battle is in the stories.
The battle is in the scars upon your back.
They want to take back the square
Our backs toward the sun
When we finally bow down,
we all bow together in prayer
but just as suddenly, we turn on one another.
Anger and arrogance –
hijacking our revolution.
They crush us with their wheels
but they cannot crush our souls
The stand becomes a war
The good become traitors,
and traitors become heroes.