Inside the cats stretch and purr, lick their fur by the fire,
With practiced indifference to instinct and desire,
Outside the birds rise and sing as the baby birds die,
There were bound to be casualties learning to fly,

Below the sirens ring out, cities burn in the night,
Watchers watching the watchmen with no vision in sight,
Above it all, the airwaves deliver electronic placation,
As recreational outrage replaces conversation,

Before our horses were fastened to the carousel tracks,
We felt the wind, rather than the wall to our backs,
After all, we all got older, tied with time’s rusty chains,
Fingers wedged into ears, souls sedated by stains,

Either we’ll fall to the seduction of safety’s allure,
Clutching at cobwebs and killed by the cure,
Or we’ll rediscover that small voice we tried to ignore,
And remember some battles are still worth the war.