To know the shape of my wake is entirely up to me,
Lends an uneasy sort of weight to a trickier kind of free.
Begs the question, aren’t they all? Oh, and it’s prob’ly true.
With no chains and with no walls it’s hard to know what to do.
Without the cop out of compliance, everything’s open to
Lonely, anxious exploration. You only answer to you.
For all the trouble they can cause, one can imagine how
The fantasy of permanence, progeny would allow.
But the pressure on the person sat on a branch’s end
Must be tripled with awareness of the one turn you’ve got to expend.
To the childless unbeliever, know that you’re not alone.
It gets better, we can see it. This tradition will be our own.
from Box A Gypsy
released December 20, 2015
Written and performed by Morgan Meredith
Drums by Sly Alley
all rights reserved