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.