Dead Confederate
As Able, As Well
Won't climb up, waive mast, shake flagsThe weight of your noose lays a hundred pound bagI filled it with "not", I filled it with "no"All of the things you taught me to knowHold close to grace, hold tight the glowThese, as it seems, always first to goWashed by lies or fist or crownShame the rope's too high to touch groundTime's as able as I am well
From Letras Mania