it’s cold down here
where drawls echo
the sound of repression
and obedience walks
with fear.
i used to think i could escape
but it’s not just the South,
it’s the whole damn country.
it’s warm inside my cabin
in wintertime up in Maine
where the resistance still lives
yet fades.
i want to believe we’ll be safe
up in the woods
but the regime is taking hold
and a little voice inside
keeps whispering.
go North.
further.
