OTIS

A stowaway in the place of your berth
Not worth the price of a hearse.
Strange fruit deep in the earth,
In the year of my birth.

Straw dogs barking orders
.
A soul drawn from muddy waters.
Your bones rest at your farm in Georgia.
Iced lyrics, frozen in December waters.

Your farm’s a home far from harm.
Was anointed by a king, a doctor’s cure,
To ensure justice just is and what he orders
Tell waters calm and let his love endure.

Sometimes everything seems the same
But life can be a flight on a different plane

Or as stray as dock-dogs on a seagull bay,
Until things change.





(runner up in Madame L's "year I was born" comp my ode to Otis Redding - who didn't want to die for us, only live for us)