Wayback Weekend #3

In 1999 I was 17 and a senior in high school, and I liked to write, uh, moralistic saloon music – ?

Gates

She with the lips
And the prodigal flame
Who curses the heavens
From which she came
Mixes her pain
And her faith all together
And grinds them to dust
Or wraps them in leather

She who draws heat
Like a lightning rod
And flaunts her thighs
As she sings to god
Says, "Sex is a tool
for carving out fame"
While the little girls watch her
And do just the same

To the soldiers and the lovers
To the privileged and the poor
Freedom without thought
Can be dangerous as war

And now we've a brand new plague to fight
For we've softened our minds
But hardened our sight

You with the eyes
That saw through my skin
Determined to trade
Your sweetness for sin
Please find that place
Where your conscience has been
And open your gates
To welcome it in

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