Since you've been gone
I've become torn
Between the cynic
And the poet
You left before these wars
The nightly round-ups
And the tallies
I'm wondering when this ends
Tell me the Spirit isn't sleeping
I'm trying to believe
Tell me-I'm retreating
All I can do is grieve
I guess nothing changes
You saw this in the 60's
Left, Right, Cold War, and the Bomb
Marches, banners, and rallies
Jets, falling fire, and bodies
Wondering when this ends
Tell me the Spirit isn't sleeping
I'm trying to believe
Tell me-I'm retreating
All I can do is grieve