To say, I don’t know, about covers it all in my book
To say, it is or it ain’t so, makes for wars and endless fighting
Makes for martyrs and murder and all kinds of frightening righteousness
I aspire to not knowing but usually descend to righteousness
Dragging my noisy chains around shouting: Liberation and Freedom and Cause
That room, my friends, is always full
To say, it is or it ain’t so, makes for wars and endless fighting
Makes for martyrs and murder and all kinds of frightening righteousness
I aspire to not knowing but usually descend to righteousness
Dragging my noisy chains around shouting: Liberation and Freedom and Cause
That room, my friends, is always full
Else I could sit with the others in that garden off to the side
There with none but the brute, the base, the low
There with the four-legged and the two
There with the winged, the horned, and the finned
There with the snouts, the cold, wet noses and the hard and pointy beaks
There, always feasting and there always being feasted on
We may not know anything, there
In that beautiful and terrible dwelling
But there, oh there, we do know our place
There with none but the brute, the base, the low
There with the four-legged and the two
There with the winged, the horned, and the finned
There with the snouts, the cold, wet noses and the hard and pointy beaks
There, always feasting and there always being feasted on
We may not know anything, there
In that beautiful and terrible dwelling
But there, oh there, we do know our place
- Adam Hall, March 4, 2011
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