Wearin’ Blue by Paul Kloschinsky
I heard your desire
Whispered by riders
That blew through my innocent youth.
I remember the time
That we filled up the night
With thunder that roared to the moon.
But the harvest we planned
Now lies parched on a land
That in springtime we thought that we knew
And the dust of our passions
Are blown like the ashes
Of so much we thought we could do.
And the wind blows the wasted words that were thrown
Down to the lovers who lie on their own
The colors and ribbons
On soft shades and visions
Lie crumpled in papers I threw
Out to the fields
Where the newsmen revealed
What power and privilege can do.
The sound of a siren
A baby lies cryin’
His mother is strung out by noon
While towers and riches
Are thrown in the ditches
By vandals that ride with the moon.
And the wind blows the wasted words that were tried
Down to the poets who fought as they died
A rusted old idol
Lies buried inside of
The broken down schoolyard we knew.
A tree that stands bare
Bore the fruit of our years
But is striped now of all that once grew.
The weeds softly sway
Under skies stained with grey
On the paths of our turbulent youth.
Autumn of sorrow
You stole my tomorrow
And left me to sweep up the ruins.
And the wind blows the wasted words that were shared
Down past the diamonds that lay in your hair