Kicking Thorns by Kevin Closs

He crossed the one-lane bridge alone, his fists were tightly curled
Carved his name upon a signpost, then turned to face the world
The wind was howling through the wires, the trucks like demons roared
His feet fell to their mission, a life of kicking thorns

He followed you just like a child, grey and white to blue and red
But for every mile he put behind, there were fifteen more ahead
And the road grew wild and muddy, blocked at every turn
For all the barricades he battered down, he was still just kicking thorns

Masterpieces painted, and masterpieces lost
Empty halls and empty smiles, and frozen borders crossed
A tapestry as old as life, from which something new was torn
Sewing one small dream together, trying to keep from kicking thorns

Then suddenly the curtain falls, the house lights flicker on
To reveal indifferent faces, they roll their eyes and yawn
For in this tragic comedy, no one laughs and no one mourns
They hurry out into the snow, leave the players kicking thorns

Confessed to all that I had loved, felt it burning in my blood
That I'd sensed a mighty purpose, was borne up by the flood
But they're not listening now, like they didn't hear before
I'm just shouting down a reckless mob, I'm only kicking thorns

And now he waits like millions, his mind tightening like drum
Listening for that tender voice, he hopes someday will come
Like a soul cast out of heaven, ever waiting to be born
The pauper who would be a prince, a false prophet kicking thorns
But may every god who's worth a prayer hold him to the oath he's sworn
To throw himself upon the pyre, forever kicking thorns

Kevin Closs is a singer/songwriter from Manitoulin Island.

kevinclossmusic.com