There's a shadow on the faces
Of the men who fan the flames
Of the wars that are fought in places
Where we can't even say the names
They sell us the President the same way
They sell us our clothes and our cars
They sell us every thing from youth to religion
The same time they sell us our wars
I want to know who the men in the shadows are
I want to hear somebody asking them why
They can be counted on to tell us who our enemies are
But they're never the ones to fight or to die
And there are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire
-- Jackson Browne
As I walked around Montreal today I realized why I never walk at home. I am completly and totally bored with split level houses, fresh lawns, happy children playing, and the sweet smell of hamburgers on the grill.
I need more pissed off drivers, clanging bicycles, rambling winos, arrogant 20somethings strolling 3 by 3, bored salesclerks, and the sweet smell of oil burning in the Metro.
