Erik Petersen – For an Old Kentucky Anarchist
High upon a forgotten mountain top, lay a garden, untended and dry
'twas a yard that hadn't felt children's feet running, for the mother long
ago, taught her children how to fly
Within a simple cabin, untouched by industrial hands
Sat the aging mother in her home
You can’t escape the picture frames, there’s too many, she said
They keep me from being alone
Well she spoke, "he was an honest man, he worked hard to put food on our plates
Well we had more babies than we had arms, we struggled all our lives
But the rewards were great
And when my son came home from the war, he rested his head on my breast
And said, “mom, I’m tired of being used and grinded down, I feel so low
Can you make me feel like I’m the best?”
Well my best friend truly wed a savage man, he wore her like a bad tattoo
For his only love was for the bottle, she said there’s only one thing left for me to do
To be wild once again, to take back my life and run away, set flames to his truck
He won’t ever know he’s been missing I did every day, joy freedom, dance, and love
Dance and love..."
These are the stories that this mother spoke to me,
As I brought her garden back to grow. I was rewarded with a warm meal
Tales never to be heard, some call it poverty, but they’ll never know
She said “All I’ve got is my stories and this old guitar, my crops have all come and
away,
I’ve got a head full of recipies,enticing to the taste and a liking to wake up and greet
day
Got bad back from raising my children, from hugging my husband so tight
Hell, I’ve never cared much for any government, I’ve got my jesus when I feel the time
right,
Singin’ I’m the richest I'll ever be, I embrace the world I have all around me. So sing
dying song, and
slap your knee, Have a taste of true anarchy
Yeah, anarchy