Misty Miles

In those misty miles along the southeast coast

Spanish moss hangin’ from the crooked live oaks

Reachin’ far above him like a cradle in the sky

Woven together by some invisible god

Every inhale is a little birth, every exhale he dies

He’s a man on two wheels lookin’ for some peace and quiet

In this fitful world

As he rode into Charleston past the harbor and sound

Antebellum houses waving flags from the old south

He watched all the people go strolling by

Shopping bags in hand coffee cups of desire

He wondered if they knew the water’s on the rise

All the dukes, duchesses, and peasants of King street

Under the waterline

When will enough be enough

When will we be satisfied

When will enough be enough

When will we be satisfied

He looked high, he looked low, he was a child then grew old

Working nights and weekends turning time to gold

Buried in the blockchain Like some treasure trove

And for a time he watched it Grow and grow

But one day it disappeared like some magic trick

A sleight of hand illusion with the flick of a wrist

In this shifting world

When will enough be enough

When will we be satisfied

When will enough be enough

When will we be satisfied

He did his laundry in the evening, hung it out at night

Hoping to catch the dream he had as a child

Sipping on bourbon the slow fade of his mind

Gazing at the stars past the planes and the satellites

Feeling small and held, the voice inside

Whispers “It’s all enough, just be alive

In the precious world.”

When will enough be enough

When will we be satisfied

When will enough be enough

When will we be satisfied

When will enough be enough

When will we be satisfied

When will enough be enough

When will we be satisfied