In The Mirror
Fly South, my beautifully benevolent birds...
Even you must sense the sky lowering upon this land
Empires are falling, and fading genders have become meaningless
My veranda, now covered in leaves, was once your sanctuary
Now, icy winds have slammed shut the doors to my charity
I hear you calling out my name, but Iím not really listening
Today my world ends, and by tomorrow Iíll be gone
Iíll no longer rebuke your raucous calling...no, not ever again
I wish you could fly away with me, my friends, beside me always...
Öbut you never would.
("FOD" - Foreign Object Damage)
...just bein' Bluesy