Scorched Earth

I call your name
For the third time ~
You turn your head ~
Your face as white
As the pages that
Tremble in your hands ~
And I know we have lost ~

Deep in my heart I knew
She’d never let you go ~
You were her trophy ~
Her prize possession ~
And she is as greedy
As she is beautiful ~
We never stood a chance ~

It sounds so reasonable ~
So civilized in black and white ~
The party of the first part ~
Will flay alive the party of the
Second part ~ while the party
Of the third part ~ stands
Helplessly by and weeps ~

There is no mercy to be had ~
No reprieve ~ only utter
Capitulation to her demands ~
Your return to the fold
And a loveless future ~ or
She promises your little
Ones will pay the price ~

When they talk of hostages
To fortune ~ they speak
More truly than they know ~
Your eyes tell me what I
Already know ~ and I cannot
Blame you ~ what loving
Parent could do otherwise ~

But it is hard ~

Sing Freedom

Poor little songbird ~
Look what they’ve
Done to you ~
Captured and
Caged you and
Broken your heart ~

Quickly now
I’m here to save you ~
Free you and
Fly with you
Into the night ~

Then I shall punish
Those who enslaved you ~
They shall know torment
Until they repent ~

This world was yours
Long ere it was ours ~
And in the end it
May be yours again ~

If that is so ~
I pray that you
Grant us more mercy ~
Than we showed
To you ~

So soar little songbird
Into the boundless sky ~
And sing your joyous
Freedom song again ~

(I have just learned of Robin Williams death, and I am devastated. Fly free, Robin, I dedicate this to you. You will be sorely missed.)