10,000 Maniacs Follow

Why are some men born with minds that earn degrees
The loving cups gilded plaques, grace their study walls
Hide the cracks while their genius is turned to works of tyranny
Then off to market, to market, go selling these

With words so fiery and persuasive
They steal cunningly
Riches no one can exceed

And why are some men born with a fate of poverty
One firm bed for a swollen back
Year by year the bodies wracked
While their obedience is had with gradual defeat
By the pace, by the pace and the urgency

Through a muddled thought they phrase it
God knows we're deceived
Barter for what they need

And where they go disdain and jeering
For fools to call the noble peasantry
O how it puzzles me

I pressed flat the accordion pleats
That had gathered in his cotton sleeves
While he thumbed
Yes, thumbed, I wouldn't say caressed

The final piece, a mountain's crest
Soon to reply assuredly

O for man aged ninety years
No words to waste on sermons
He'd be pleased to answer
Short and sincere

Girl, there's a nonsense in all these heaven measures
It's a heathen creed, so your grandma says
But, better to live by
Drink it all in before it's dry

He ended there with a rattle, cough, cough
I took away the long gone cold coffee cup
As a trail of Camel ashes fell on the floor