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(A ‘maybe song’, [i.e. when I get around to it]. Inspired after rehearsing with a cut on my finger. Yep… it’s *that* profound)

 

I’m not comfortable around people

All the users; all the sheeple.

I’d truly be a hermit if I could.

But, for the health of my own spirit,

I force myself do it,

And, maybe, even, try to do some good.

.

Been a liar, been a cheat-

A fool set on ‘repeat’;

These legs have limped through many layers of hell.

I’m consistent in relationships

In that they’re all now sunken ships,

(I think, perhaps, that’s prob’ly just as well…).

.

But, don’t tell me I’m not doing my part

With all my soul and mind and heart,

Confronting all the shit that each day brings.

With my old guitar and faltering voice,

I scribe because I have no choice.

(Believe me, that’s not ‘rust’ on my strings…)

.

Divisions within divisions;

Hatred and derisions,

Manufactured rifts and pointless schisms;

Question are now a crime –

Better get your thoughts in line.

Does self-worth only come from being a victim?

.

But, don’t tell me I’m insensitive

That my views are oh-so-primitive

When you prioritise your symptoms over cause.

In your angry, little bands

You’re playing right into their hands…

(And, no,that’s not ketchup on my fretboard).

 

Let’s find what we have in common

Instead of venting at those strawmen…

.

Drop your costumes and your labels

And let’s kick the legs out from the table…

.

…And I’ll continue smithing words

And pounding out those chords…

.

…’Cos, while we’re pointing at each other

They’re sneaking in their Biggest Brother…

.

…Leave those thousand flags unpinned

Let them reap the full whirlwind…

.

(…Then I can finally stop.

And change these bloody strings.)