To ask where I stand
Is to ask why air comes from a fan
You may get an scientific explanation
But to ask may be to much temptation
I am a Fireman
I follow the orders of my chief
To ask where I stand
All you have to do is stare at the ash on my cheek
Fire, Kerosene
The tools of my trade
Destruction, Disbelief
The aftermath after the fires fade
Some say the pen is mightier than the sword
But my python is ready to strike
actions speak louder than words
As I make it day from night
I am a Fireman
I turn books into ashes
Then I burn the ashes in flashes
of light and heat
My job causes others to flee
The very odd site of me
For I might be
Visiting their very home
Am I happy?
A girl once ask
Am I happy?
She kept talking about the past
How we use to put out fires
Instead of burning books with lighters
As if she could see past my mask
Am I happy?
I have a wife do I?
I enjoy what I do
But for some reason tonight
My happiness ran out of fuel
Am I happy?
I am a Fireman
Am I happy?
I am a Fireman
Am I happy?
I am a Fireman
The smell of kerosene defines who I am
But this one girl
Turn everything I knew about this world
Upside down and meaningless as the books I burn
But am I happy?
I am a Fireman
Am I happy?
I am a Fireman
Burning books is imprinted in my nature
As the same as the words imprinted on a page
Books are for burning
Eyes are for watching parlor walls
But in the end, one must fall
It's amazing to see how the first poem takes on more specific form and shape when it comes through the narrator Guy Montag. You've done an excellent job!
ReplyDeleteI loved reading it through a second time with the guitar playing-- if you haven't heard him play, check out Stanley Jordan when you have a chance.