When life doesn’t turn out as we would like,
when life doesn’t turn out as we would like,
I gotta do something to take me away.
Leaves wait to be raked this crisp November day.
The fallen leaves appear splashed in color,
the fallen leaves appear splashed in color,
red, yellow, orange a tinge of green drip from
the painter’s palette, their last breaths fill the air.
A silenced phone makes me see through new lenses,
a silenced phone makes me see through new lenses,
Piles of leaves I’ve raked onto a plastic tarp,
have become ballots. Oh Lord, what have we done?
Haul the loaded plastic sheet slowly at first,
haul the loaded plastic sheet slowly at first,
then ever faster. It sounds like the tearing
of paper ballots to feed the shredder’s blades.
Pulling the ballots off the tines of the rake,
pulling the ballots off the tines of the rake,
they fragment, then are carried off on the wind
with our fears and hate. Oh Lord, what have we done?
Trudging head down to my door filled with worry,
trudging head down to my door filled with worry,
for my beloved children and grandchildren.
O Lord what have we done?
Lord what have we done.