quacks of ducks rise up from the south the wind retracts its chill
scores of bugs bite back fighting out from that forgotten hill
twilight in the dining hall a feast prepared for one and all
though they have not slain a bird at all they eat their fill
silent figure there in the shadows though he means no harm
hides his deviant wicked methods underneath his charm
light is shined a crowd will glance
toward him, but they have no chance
to see him and his mystic dance it would cause alarm
every time i stand in line waiting for a fix of security to keep my woes at bay
i can catch the signs something in me picks up the truths about the universe they don’t intend to say
the sacred whisper out from the savage and profane
the revolution springs from the common and mundane
the space between them is life in all its joy and pain
what’s the outcome? i think we all can answer that
what’s our duty it’s who we are and where we’re at
love the one that holds your hand when times get tough across the land
and there ain’t no food to meet demand so you can’t grow fat
but in these times of plenty when your thoughts are free to roam
outside of food and shelter and the sanctity of home
a place where we can choose our meal there was duck, now there’s beef and veal
so how can we know how we feel about what goes on inside our little dome?
days impatient wait for no man they saw his trail
a ‘quack’ of ducks was flying southward through the sky so pale
spring is here, we meet again
i never new him as a friend
but who he was and what he said there’s no escape frommit •