America My Love, 2nd Refrain


2nd Refrain

There once was a man of political intent

Who knew of all the figures

that came and went

He saw shadows shift

Underneath the prominent coffins

he did lift

 

He gave good advice

But never listened to his own

He spoke his words nice

And tempered a treating tone

 

But he was see through true and true

Though he spoke loyal

He walked royal

And all knew he wanted a throne

 

He tried to blend

But He became so standard

When afraid

of what it meant to be slandered

 

Never got too far

Except when he drove out in his car

 

Imagining people hailed his name

From all corridors and lands

He imagined so much fame

That even to him – it seemed most profane

 

He did have a way about him

That some were inclined to flout him

But he never could make means into ends

 

In public he put philosophy under sophistry

In private he made freedom his curiosity

He loved it like it were atrocity

So much so he hardly handled

restraints on velocity

 

One day

He departed from the fray

Abandoning his sway

to the matters of that fine may day

 

he mounted the metal horse

and went riding

But oddly enough…

he felt he was hiding

 

For once, his self

was what he was chiding

 

He passed from tree to tree

And wanted so badly to be free

From all the toll and all the fee

 

So started his quaint little speeding spree…

 

He slammed on the peddle to soar through sees of glinting metal

he went quicker and slicker, faster and rasher discarding thoughts for laughter

as he unbuckled the belt that bound, honking and heaving

like the barkings of a hungry hound

Until he swung and spun round and round and forsook

All the control from the roles he stole

 

For one sliver

of freedom

from the capitol Pull

 

When he slammed into the tree

he soared out so far

that he finally felt free…

 

With the contents of his head ajar

Eyes smeared red

against the black tar

He found finally

That he could see so far

 

Tales get twisted

As our art gets fisted

These times are strange

But I do admire the range

 

America’s threading

And bedding

New sorts of souls

And new brands of roles

~Austin R Ryan

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