Flobots - 2012 lyrics
[Flobots - 2012 lyrics]
2012 that's damn good vision
He spat, his gums calloused by neglect
Grinned and crisped into a red delicious
Its skin zesty, the air was sweetness
His skin was stretched and ancient
Cracked and seemed like a patch of pavement
Much too often and just as dark in pigment
He was my grandfather
The dwindling town knew him as Moses
His dwindling comrades call him Moe
I don't know if it was his age
Or the way he caused folks to move away
The air was damp but not suffocating
The stoop was ramshackle and yet sturdy
Treacherous, like the conversation
But still able to bear gravity's ambush
He was silent as he let the four numbers
Ricochet against permutations
Of broken dreams and personal triumphs
He spat out half of an apple seed
"Look at us, we're one foot removed
From working this very land without choice
One foot removed from the Promised Land
And did you know that Moses
Never made it to Canaan?"
His question was piercing
His eyes were bloodshot
Recalling more life than I could fathom
I tried not recoil under his vulnerability
And gave my response as I bit into the apple
"The Hebrews themselves did not
Enter the Promised Land
Until long after they arrived
They had to fight, and wander and wait
Before they were able to open their eyes
We are still fighting and
Wandering and waiting
We have fled enslavement and parted waters
We have seen the horizons promised
But we have not yet fully arrived
God had told Moses that it was his destiny
But Moses never believed that promise
But, if we apply better the perfect vision
We will find the Promised Land among us"
I spat out an uncracked apple seed
It landed in the soil beside the broken one
My Grandfather smiled at me and said
"If we keep this up we'll
Have a whole damn orchard"
If prophecies are self-fulfilling
Interpreting scriptures predicts the future
And sharing better the perfect vision
Is building up a new world
He spat, his gums calloused by neglect
Grinned and crisped into a red delicious
Its skin zesty, the air was sweetness
His skin was stretched and ancient
Cracked and seemed like a patch of pavement
Much too often and just as dark in pigment
He was my grandfather
The dwindling town knew him as Moses
His dwindling comrades call him Moe
I don't know if it was his age
Or the way he caused folks to move away
The air was damp but not suffocating
The stoop was ramshackle and yet sturdy
Treacherous, like the conversation
But still able to bear gravity's ambush
He was silent as he let the four numbers
Ricochet against permutations
Of broken dreams and personal triumphs
He spat out half of an apple seed
"Look at us, we're one foot removed
From working this very land without choice
One foot removed from the Promised Land
And did you know that Moses
Never made it to Canaan?"
His question was piercing
His eyes were bloodshot
Recalling more life than I could fathom
I tried not recoil under his vulnerability
And gave my response as I bit into the apple
"The Hebrews themselves did not
Enter the Promised Land
Until long after they arrived
They had to fight, and wander and wait
Before they were able to open their eyes
We are still fighting and
Wandering and waiting
We have fled enslavement and parted waters
We have seen the horizons promised
But we have not yet fully arrived
God had told Moses that it was his destiny
But Moses never believed that promise
But, if we apply better the perfect vision
We will find the Promised Land among us"
I spat out an uncracked apple seed
It landed in the soil beside the broken one
My Grandfather smiled at me and said
"If we keep this up we'll
Have a whole damn orchard"
If prophecies are self-fulfilling
Interpreting scriptures predicts the future
And sharing better the perfect vision
Is building up a new world