Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel
As we crossed that invisible line, and left behind, like magic, dreary clouds for a movie set sun, I could only think of all the luck that was to be had if you know where to look.
"Inversion layer," you said, talking of how the air can be heavy with weight -- trapping things below.
We marched on, floated higher, as battle hymns passed invisible lines too: from abolitionists and singing soldiers, from Mormons to Joan Baez, from FDR to IWW and its revolutionary bombs, and, of course, finally to us.
How charmingly stubborn the way a beautiful melody can hold on to itself despite the lyrics. How charmingly stubborn the way we think the melodies exist only for us.
As we crossed that invisible line, and left behind, like magic, dreary clouds for a movie set sun, I could only think of all the luck that was to be had if you know where to look.
"Inversion layer," you said, talking of how the air can be heavy with weight -- trapping things below.
We marched on, floated higher, as battle hymns passed invisible lines too: from abolitionists and singing soldiers, from Mormons to Joan Baez, from FDR to IWW and its revolutionary bombs, and, of course, finally to us.
How charmingly stubborn the way a beautiful melody can hold on to itself despite the lyrics. How charmingly stubborn the way we think the melodies exist only for us.