Saturday, June 27, 2015

Scars of America

The scars of America are being torn open daily
We would've healed her pain, but alas her blood flows in the streets
Is there no balm for age old wounds, can no physician heal her?
Aye there was none, though we sought with great weeping
Bitter is the waters as if it were gall
The earth is parched as though singed with fire
The sky was as brass over us all