Have you been laid low



From the get-go



On the road in fine little pieces



Did you hear bells



And the echoes



Of faraway horns in bone dry places



How many lampposts



Light up the night sky



Spitting bright white heat



Like the spokes of stars



Have you seen their books



And in the pages



The plain truth and the hard-won fiction



The sleek stain of a slow-acting poison



Creeping its way down



In the trembling ground



Around the flagpole



Out in the dustbowl



And in the wrought iron bars over the window



They came for the promise of a great reward



And stayed for the golden view



And when the gales blew sparks



On the travelers in the dark



Well, they made do



You got your freedom



And it weren't for nothing



If you can hold down the note and sing it out



Remember you were born to the whispering world



With a shout



Is this your religion



What keeps you up nights



Who writes the paychecks



Who games the markets



Who runs the cables



Who owns the papers



Who spanned the oceans



Carved out the acres



Ground down the mountain



Who made the motors



Laid down the train tracks



And corralled the soldiers



In through the loopholes



Out the escape clause



Between the captions



And guidelines and bylaws



Rolled down the falls in a big wooden barrel



Over the goal line



And into a parade of bright red costumes



Shining batons