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Little HeavenThis is the story of an angel
Who fell in love with a piece of snow.
She watched the snowflake make his graceful descent,
Claim his place on a little spot off to the side
She admired his beauty quietly from afar
And when his crystal body would blink in the sun
It swept her breath away from her throat.
She listened to him sing
Songs of beautiful icy paradise
Songs that say, maybe another day
I’ll look again into heaven’s eyes.
He made the angel miss the sky
So she opened her wings again
And soared up to the atmosphere
Back to her beautiful cloudy home.
But it wasn’t heaven without the snowflake
And she missed him every day
Living in the place he always sang about;
Until one day she couldn’t bear it anymore
So she spread her wings again
And flew back down
To the mangled world below
And searched among dirty asphalt and dark footprints
To find the snowflake.
Winter was almost at its end
And he was hanging on by a thread
So the angel gave him he
WarIsn’t it funny
How we choose our sides
And get our bullets and knives
To go kill men
Who could be our brothers
Then start a new battle from victory
And yet another one from loss?
Walk A Thousand MilesWalk a thousand miles
Through jungle and through road
It’s the only thing you know how to do now
Because you’ve walked a thousand miles
But really, to where?
Maybe back home, but that’s a memory
To your sisters in heaven--but how?
The only place to go is to blood country
Where the living dead gnaw on the dead
You return to blood country
They call you comrade, then cut off your head
Music that plays endlessly, deceivingly
To hide the sounds of cracking skulls
You try to be strong like a proper soldier
And tell yourself you can fight
But in the end, you know you’re just bait
RunYou’re the one mistake I didn’t make
The one chance that I managed to take
I thought the odds weren’t so tight
But I guess we lost the fight
Because now I’m leaving you
Like I left everything else
So you have to run
Before you’re caught in their yells
Don’t let them turn you around
Run faster, reach the light
I’m so sorry that I did this to you
When my job was to make things right
I’m a coward with sins you can’t forgive
But if I may ask you for just one last thing
Please, remember me by my song
Instead of all the things that I did wrong
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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