There were no more ways for the buffalo to roam
Fences stopped their grazing and wild land migration
Farmers began to cultivate their food with chemicals
And soon they became desired by man for their very skin
That kept them warm through the winter
Leaving the only thing they couldn’t be robbed of
Their soul, their wild and herd driven soul
Alone, rotting on the fields forever.
This did not grow up as a chemical
We were legs and arms that took too long
But that’s the end of a string
I didn’t bring nor did I sing
But I stood there like sweet nicotine
With salt between my fingertips
That had a history of danger
So take my hand that’s never left
Joking in my Sunday best
Take me on a pleasure ride
Along the hidden tide of your good time
Take me to the ocean rise
With your breasts and lips so sensitive
Catch me in an open book
That reads like the sweet look
You’ve given to me, carrying me
Roads to anywhere that lead me to harmony
For I’m taken here with you
And I’m resting on a rock
In the middle of my thoughts
With you and a dog that took me along
Have you seen what hides in the field
What grows in between, down on the ground
My tidy shoes and a singing guitar
Take me along.
Where has this beat departed to
– Crunching and releasing
In spite variable dependencies
Hovering dangerously close to the rubbish bin.
Can one lose this beat
So memorised by thy heart,
Yet so fragile by thy touch?
Step soundly, leave not noise
To disrupt this chemical
Leave a smile so tenderly placed
Wings of a falling leaf
Pause to embrace.
Anachrome brought me here:
Leveled the forest floor
And dug the deep holes
That left me homeless.
I wrestled with fate.
I angled my history towards
Chemical baths and
Burning blow torches.
Then I left in distance.
With mud huts and ivory
And skinny dipping clear-cuts.
Like a woodpecker on a telephone pole.
There was no death.
No marked spot for execution,
Hanging noose or bullet hole.
Anachrome lived in smoke.