O cool electric blue
your star is on the rise
with trouble you came through
with promises and lies
shards of metal
bits of bone
strewn with splintered wood
we made this bargain for our souls
and we declared it good

the drone, the whistle, the thunderous sound
it seared their eyes
it shook the ground
one hundred thousand voices lift
while ashes like dirty snowfall drift
clouds of purple glowing gas
a tiny sun is rising fast
see the shadow on the wall
now there’s nothing there at all

our nation breathed a righteous sigh
bring back the million sent to die
the chariot is our security
the stallion is our deity
all God’s power is in our hand
gold from lead like glass from sand
you scared us more than you’ll ever know
fire on high and fire below

Brant Huddleston is the author of two books, scads of short stories and other mad musings, and the host of a podcast on how death taught him to thrive in the second half of life. A former rock&roll guitarist, classic car restoration mechanic, tropical fish tank cleaner, and sales professional with IBM, he now lives with a pirate lady on Turkey’s turquoise coast. Find him at www.dancepastsunset.com. Or write to him at [email protected].