The Locusts Are Coming

Moving my hands in physical space
You seem surprised when I touch your face
I’m running so slow that I can’t win the race

Light travels fast but not instantly
The reflection in the mirror’s what I used to be
I’d open my eyes but I don’t want to see

Your memory comes back along with the pain
It’s funny how it comes back again and again
But later this afternoon it just might rain

Looking for purpose in history
Trying to find evidence of injury
Overlapping patterns of tragedy

A hundred-thirty degrees and rising higher
Who is the dictator, who’s the liar?
It’s hard to believe in this ceasefire

The golden age of America begins right now
But don’t press for details, don’t ask how
And anything we’ve said we’ll disavow

The rich have it all and they still want more
Judges are bribed to cheat the poor
We’re already losing the next civil war

Come on, little baby, let me hear you sing
Do what I tell you, don’t change a thing
The locusts are coming with scorpion sting