I heard of a herd
that swallowed a word
that led them downhill
into a mass kill.
Their lives were o.k.,
but not so today.
Went down in defeat.
And now they’re just meat.
Dead dreams on American buns.
Bodies piling up by the tons.
It’s everything the master always craved,
endless tombstones with his name engraved.
I heard of a herd
who thought words absurd.
Who summoned the will
to march back uphill,
their lives to retrieve.
The master must leave.
The land will revive.
And love can survive.
New notes in our country’s songs,
promising to right our wrongs.
A healing world, a brighter sky.
We mourn the souls who had to die.