A Modern-Day Lullaby Poem by Chance Foreman

Who is to say there is a way to find the day,
When the light has gone
With no roosters song

Take a walk around the block
But don't forget to knock
When you hear the bleeding of the rock

This would be a fearful scary thing to think
When life and love begin to drink
The tightrope walker well come to the brink

Priest of guilt
Will sway and tilt
Upon the line of fate

And in his hand
He holds a brand
Of the beautiful world made of sand

Whistle, whistle a silly tune
And find the moon
Suspended like a black balloon

The truth means nothing when it’s standing on its head
And the politician roost like a pigeon in its bed
But in the end all he sees is red

My son, sing me a lullaby
When up was up and down was down and blue was the color of the sky
And though you are not here to sing I hear it like the whisper of goodbye.