as this is understood by everyone,
the upper midwest rolls by without
care for anyone. stars release them
selves from their holsters at the slightest
provocation. the animals rustle and the
trees shake, and light pollution glows
in dim patches on the horizon. this
land is tamed and free, held in hands
of men and women who work the land
fought back and back and back and back
and back and back and back again.
and when the winter comes, everyone dies,
cause they took all our money and they
took all our blankets, too. now all we've got
is guns, and we're too tired of fighting to.