Straw Man~by Norman Wilson

 

 

Straw Man

I hung my schingle on the dark angel’s door
Now it is blowing in the wind forevermore
Blowing, just blowing in the wind like before
As I hung all my sins on the dark angel’s door

Partisan riders wing into the patch to patronize
To catch a glimpse of my shingle flying by in guise
As all shingle rust away on the winds of an ageless time
In an immoral craziness impacting two tales of lies

What kind of lies fly on the blacken wings of death
For so gentle a soul yet so sinful with no regret
As I exposed the darkest side under the sun’s glow
Predicting a pass or fail shingling the answer for all to know

Forty-eight hours ago I was distracted framing death’s door
Not knowing the shingle I was hanging was from my deepest core
For in my labour I am the straw man that had no brain
Shingling all my sins on death’s door could only be insane

My life did not affect the heaven, sun and the moon
For to rid away with this man of straw is way too soon
So tell the angels to change the date, for I am the straw man
Wanting to hang a new shingle of redemption with a better plan

All rights reserved 07/17/16
Norman Francis