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Love River Alms

They will always be with us
How do they want to live
The same as their masters
The ones that take, not give?

They sing simple songs of love
in the language of their tongue;
eat the food of their ancestors
In the morning heat of the sun

Their life, innocent and profane
Symbolic, still they breathe, while
black tie intellectuals argue their fate;
but civil wars never dressed for style

A man of peace is too dangerous
He is neither politician or gangster
He can only walk with the living fears
of love; but anarchy has no leader

The oil dripping from his feet was sold
for a seat in a white house; the wood
from a cross was a bridge they blew
up; his words always misunderstood

I’m too comfortable to be a prophet;
nobody takes a healthy man seriously,
if I was sick I’d only die like a fool
because my soul showed no mercy

What can one say except let them in;
or go back to a place that can’t love them
I can’t think of anything except alms
but my door’s locked by my own sin

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