cannon fire
barks ahead
man, we hear every sound
first, live to the ear
then sniffing near
like packs
of roaming hounds
rows of men
stepping forth
toward the valley's end
just blades of grass
giving way
slinking back
as we ascend
one last hill
one last lip
under a sky that bends
around the horizon like
a smothered, back lit lens
the captain's shout
brings a halt
to our final run
steady now
we point our guns
we point our guns
we point our guns
and we the rows
rows of men
they chose to send
on their behalf
shouting on and on
cracking sounds
bullets sent
just make a lot of smoke
and the shape of things
suggests to me
our natural laws might be a hoax
a shadowed line
a crease of doubt
sets across the captain's face
and he screams for God
or any God
to extend their grace
and we the rows
rows of men
they chose to send
crowded over lawns
we fill the valley floor
old miss Lee
on her knee
mends upon a sash
that catches wind
high above
when messengers dash
lovers quarrel
poets spin
man, nothing seems to change
just cooling now
over distorted ground
in the valley from where the monster came
credits
from The Battle,
released October 9, 2012
Drum kit sampled and edited from original performance by Tim Smith
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