Joseph Narusiewicz (9/29/50 / So St Paul, Minnesota)

Strangers rise out of the sea
Islands of the banished pirates
Rebels of the garden paradise
Thieves and robbers sigh in contempt

Civilization becomes Lord of the Flies
Painted in jungle feathers and blood
War paint, dances, trances, drums
Raise your swords for the slaughter

Witch doctors and propaganda ministers
Gun runners in white shirts and fine suites
Us and them, every sacred idol falls
Your house is left desolate and torn

All the nations are mausoleums
Take me into your arms
Let me see a smile past the clouds
Someone not bought and sold

Stranded without a country
Strangers and sojourners
Everything is split and unsure
We go through the motions to fit in

The night comes when no man can work
No hiding behind uniforms and masks
We shed our identity as we are called
Every wilderness cleanses Egypt

Abraham leaves his country