Tough Times (acoustic version)

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The air was thick and heavy

With tension you almost could see

Stopping short of fisticuffs

But saying things he couldn’t believe

She turned her head toward the only lamp

That cut through the room’s dark chill

And said a prayer under her breath

Like a prisoner held against their will

These are tough times

And they’re ready for it all to end

For the cost of life to quit rising

Cause it’s taking its toll on them

These are tough times

And it’s working on wearing them down

But maybe there’s somewhere

Or some way they can go

To help turn it around

He raised his flag of violence

The colors were red, black, and blue

First her wrist and then her arm

Abandoning the initial dispute

A surge of rage possessed her then

Replacing her crippling fear

A striking sting against her face.

The indignities and cacophonies form a symphony

That races toward a drowning finality

That forces all humanity to disappear

Spiraling down there

© 1997 Nathan Johnson