Under the Gun

Here's my open letter to the Council for the Betterment of All that is Seen and Unseen: It's been time since I have written For the things that we have given Me and all my brothers and my sisters and the lovers in the street All saving a lonely goodbye For a time we're born to shun But surely someday soon will come But we will pass pleasantries, even under the gun. Here's my open letter to the words written by feathers dipped in the ink of several generations' blood: Throwing fits through conduits to future generations It's a fools game to rule In the practice of what's already done Composing a lonely goodbye For a time when you are gone To any victim yet unborn But we will tell it like it is, even under the gun. It's taken most of what I am to understand that we are in the same boat. Despite the things that I might say, My will is never far away to keep going To keep going To keep on going, going, going, going, going, even under the gun. Here's my open letter to the president of which whatever white-brick palace in the mud: Spending slashing underhand From high up not to understand Your fellow man, who walks in line and makes the most of his time While you're shouting a lonely goodbye Not to let the people know that you could ever let it go But we will tell it like it is, even under the gun We will move right on, even under the gun. We will dance right on, even under the gun. We will move right on, even under the gun. --- Under the Gun - Ryan Montbleau