Please do not cover this day
With a flowery petty coat
Paint brush or brush stroke
Or blow it full of
Silver lining, star dust
Because tragedy is real

Do not diminish our suffering
Or belittle all our pain
By telling us there is meaning
Because I am telling you
God was not on that mountain
peaceful hilltop farmer left anguished
And landscape is vanguished
Family under rubble
Tragedy is real

So tell me then when your
Oppressive boss dragged you
Stole your pride dignity
Shagged your wife destroyed you
And rocks fell on my child
That the lord
Looks after you
Because tragedy is real

Spend a day lifting rocks
dead bodies needless pain
People screaming children wailing
Then tell me there is meaning
That God has a plan
I say he has none
Because tragedy is real

To make sense
Is absolute nonsense
Only callous and cold
And I would not
Be so bold
To insult with any meaning
For unlike a wife
This wound is not leaving
Or ever healing
And can only be left
Raw, ****** and open

If I was to gaze into those eyes what would I see,
diamonds and jewels glistening in the morning dew,
blazing fire as they gaze into a crimson sky,
the blood red reflections mirroring your burning soul,
in such vitreous pools lay anchored ships of fools,
casting off their chains , setting sail to faraway lands,
ghosts that wander through the shadows,
moonbeams reflecting on a porcelain skin,
beacons through the darkness shining forth on rainbow shores,
there shall I seek my sanctuary until mornings new light.

Don’t you ever get tired of being defensive,
on guard,
on the waiting call to strike back and move forward?
Don’t you ever feel restless for a minute of peace in the world,
in yourself?

Another empty whisky bottle lays at the end of that table
and still there’s no hope to be found.

You fight to hold on,
you fight to stay strong.

Finger on the gun,
you’re not going home today.

The fight’s not done,
the war ain’t won.

A man on a ledge, ready to jump.