It was a clear day
quiet on the highway, middle America
and they way it can see
on a clear quiet day, a moment
became a flame..and the darkness of the mystery
surrounds someone beloved, bright now
in a cloak of faith
So beloved that when he fell the hearts
of a sullen people fell, further still
we again witness the evil
the will of fear and tainted vision
that even on a clear, quiet day
cannot abide peace; and the highway
grows cold on a summer day.
Fear rises like heat of day, words they say
to cloud the air, words that reflect the limits of care
to those we see in a particular way
Love finds the clear highway,
such thirsty ground; and eyes verge,
lips tremble, breath is hard.
A memory and a smile
becomes another way to say
we loved this man, now...that he is gone,
we love this man.
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