The Advent of an American Civil War II - #CW2
The Gathering Fire of Civil War
The Gathering Fire of Civil War
(Justin Smith) - I was raised where the ridges roll ragged and red, Where the whip‑poor‑wills cry to the dusk, Where a man learns truth from the land he treads And distrusts all things made of musk. I grew old in the hollows of Tennessee, Where the cedar roots clutch the clay, And I’ve watched this nation — proud and free — Start slipping its soul away.
Now I sit on my porch with a rifle laid Like a memory across my knees, And I watch the world like a wolf in shade Who can smell the rot on the breeze. For trouble don’t come with a trumpet’s blare, a rifle’s crack, Or a banner unfurled in the sun; It creeps like a whisper through tainted air ‘Til the damage is quietly done.
I’ve seen civil wars in far‑off lands, Where brothers turned bitter and blind, Where justice was dealt by trembling hands And mercy was left behind. And I swear on the bones of the men I knew Who fell in the dust and flame, The storm I see rising in America today Is a storm I can damn well name.
It starts when a neighbor becomes a foe For the sin of a different view, When folks don’t argue to learn or grow But to fight for what they know to be true. When the talk turns sharp as a butcher’s blade And the trust drains out like…
It’s a comin you can feel it