Silence in a storm at night
When nobody was paying attention.
The gravity and brevity of it all
When set in such indignation.
The fruitful bury the hatchet
Yet we are all sinners by day.
They can take the cost of melancholy
But they can’t never make us pay.
The wine kept us up two days
Left us yearning for more fruit
He sat and tapped on that desk
In a gray business suit.
What we found within the pond
Left us all worried and confused
How did they know it was us
Feeling battered and abused?