Stickman

The Stickman breaks the ice
Brings all cold feelings forward
A shifting sacrifice
A little more to carry homeward
The little crimes slip by Liquid loyalties re-incise
And reaching for the feed
They unearth a hidden greed
WHO DECIDES RIGHT AND WRONG?
WHO DECIDES WHAT SHOULD BE SAID?
I THINK I’LL NEVER SEE THE PATH AGAIN
A fearless choice of words
Sitting safe a world away
Traffic is a blur
And every coward has his say
Chameleons test the air
Oceans swell and overflow
But the Stickman’s everywhere
Eras come and eras go Those who remain true
Will cut a path of their own
Constant in the slew
Weather judgments and missiles thrown
Constant in the slew
Weather judgments and missiles thrown
Constant in the slew:
To forge ahead and set the tone