Текст: Diane Cluck. Impatient Sun.

tonight is colder than the fingernails of bitches
buckled belts on angry men
i was riding when the onslaught happened
i said, "here we go again"
there was paper blowing all around the ditches
calling me to find a pen
and when i went into the pen shop
i almost stayed too long
if you stop to think what color ink to write your scriptures in
your vision will be gone
and every time i bear a vision of you
i admit i try to stop it
but mothers can not carry babies past their due
so, why deny if i'm a prophet
i see you waiting like an impatient sun
knowing the moon will soon eclipse it
i see greatness in yr future
and then i see y'll never glimpse it
before y're yanked away
and though i shiver for all the unknown painters
who complete their masterpieces on the undersides of rocks
and every day there are fishermen who wake at dawn
to find their boats are gone
the ragged ropes still trailing off the docks
i'm waiting like an impatient son
knowing his momma's gonna leave
when you see death written on a living face before you
you just get on with it
cause what are supposed to grieve
the night is teeming with the bloody teeth of traitors
hear it beating with the plastic hearts of liars
the toxic fumes will keep the godly ones away
were they thrown into the fires
but you are waiting like an impatient sun
waiting for its turn to shine
and like the sun we're going to miss you
your brightness
when you leave us all behind