The Hawk from Bird Sounds by Cold Snake

It's dull to be in love with a man
who doesn't love you.
As you break the ones below you
you are broken by the one
who is above you.
In a way the hearts you're crushing
as you rush to your destruction
are your own.
How can you see the upturned faces
that are staring at you?
You feel so alone.

Slowly wheels the hawk.
The mouses blood is chilled.
The shepherd guards his flock.
The wolf waits in the wood.

I don't blame you for making a break
after all if she can't even water
the plants on the fire
escape before the leaves that have grown dry and brown
catch a cigarette ash and take the whole place down,
and the water that ought to have saved
the regal geranium is spent
putting out the fire it expired in,
what a waste, what a sin.

Slowly wheels the hawk.
The mouses blood is chilled.
The shepherd guards his flock.
The wolf waits in the wood.

In my salad days, when judgement was green
I thought only black-hearted people could be mean
but red blood is inside us
and white lies cannot hide this.

Slowly wheels the hawk.
The mouses blood is cold.
The shepherd guards his flock.
The wolf is in the fold.

• Experimental
• devotional
• folk
• punk
• spoken word
• Laramie