Does it burn
The land beneath your feet?
Does the heart of heart
Weaken strong legs, that know no sleep?
Does the chore
Of climbing mountains unheard
Make the grit of grinding teeth
Speak to one’s fleeting peace?
Oh so do I live with you
If in fact I’m in your shoes
Would you like to be as one?
When I bury a dangerous son?
Will you climb mountains yet unheard
They flag buglers to call the flock
And of them and those
whose feet dig with toes
Into a scene of
Marshall’s broad speak
Oh will that cast all doubt as to who
Is the last to shout
I am the one, too
Who makes things so
Who makes things so
And as long as one knows not to touch my toes
I will allow you to live
Within a pen like a pig
While I seek clouds
Held in honor of maybe my sin
Of my exalted one
Nominated to judge a person
So sung
And do so, no matter what
And do so, no matter what!
Does it burn, the land beneath your feet?