Thin

Pluck a thin string into a melancholic tune

Watch it grow in sonic synesthesia

 

Who knew you could play love letters being burned

The warmth of fire and tears in accompaniment

When was the last time you watched liberty

In the key of B-flat major

 

And now what if I remind you

The string is made of cold, hard steel

Where have you gone

And why does smoke fill your lungs

Ears ringing in the lonely room

From the factory man with hammer and anvil

Returning home to wife and kids

Around the dinner table

Mashed potatoes like you had on the Fourth

Back to freedom again

Fireworks and the smell of smoke

Your first kiss on the Ferris wheel at the carnival

The soft mane of a horse between your fingers

In the wooden stable where you once got a splinter

The fresh smell of paint like the time you prepared the cribroom

Cheap hot dogs for lunch that day

Like the ones you had on the Fourth of July

The gunshots that paralyze the ones you love

Their ears ringing in the key of B-flat major