Steel banshee in Murderwood
somehow puddles thru the night
shrouded pines, farmwood fences,
and the helter skelter rain
on the roof of a shanty
calls the horses on the hoof
Come whither, come may
We'll live to ride another day.
With a head full of drums
parked by a campus fence
in among the old songs,
school songs, glory songs,
weathered flags of fanfare
sombre with remembrance,
Come whither, come may
We'll live to fight another day.
There entwined a dance of ego
cascades from the fountain
head of vanity, frosted glass
of amber heaven ready to pour
until the last gasp is given
to dine in longing crying
Come whither, come may
We'll live to die another day.
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