Song of My Brother - Rod MacDonald

    There's no home in this world anymore for a gentleman
    an inmate in a tuxedo
    strolling with indifferent partners beneath the chandelier
    looking for someone to bleed to
    but I would be your gentleman if you would only let this ragged heart please you
    and there would be laughter,
    there would be shame
    there would laughter
    in a gentleman again

    Come riding riding riding
    come running for your life
    come take this song of my brothers
    come take this healing knife

    There's no home in this world anymore for a saint
    with a salesman to franchise his sandals
    to heal the faithful and hear all their complaints
    in the theaters of Los Angeles
    to stand in the garden and ask for nothing
    there's nothing that would ever be more dangerous
    there will be robes and gowns,
    there will be saints
    there will be magic clowns
    dressed for the masquerade

    My brothers are the ragged bones of volcanoes
    piled as the walls of loneliness
    my brothers are the scattered chunks of tombstones
    like weeds on abandoned mountains
    my brothers are the windows of the hurricane
    that open on everyday heroes
    there will be brutal times,
    there will be grace
    there will be diamond eyes,
    the lights of an eloquent face

    But there's no home in this world anymore for a wanderer,
    a waistcoat a bow and arrow
    a pi0oneer on the trails in the hills of Cumberland
    riding logs on the river Ohio
    but I seek another highway where they
    learn to heal the wings of a wounded sparrow
    come stand before this fire,
    glowing on your skin
    come take these searching eyes
    someplace they've never been

    Marco Giunco
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