Dear Ashkelon
In the month I will be by and leaving you
Prophets and philistines were soaking in the sea, bright
While I grew lean and dry and loved you
When hope was made of bureaucrats
Sitting fat and fluffed with fury
Over this, and over that
And though we can't rely on that
We could have been so much better
So much better than the past
Lay under this carving stone
I will not let you go
Until you're far beyond their reach
Now hold onto the balsam grove
Where they will bury our bedsheets
And our wedding shoes
So no hooves will come beneath the letter
And they'll wear their torn-out tongues as their talisman
Yes, it seems they may suffer, but the laces point to Ashkelon
So tie your things together, break your morning bread and carry on
Though the road holds strife
Rhymes to build new life
You will see now in the coming of
The night
---
Lyrics submitted by Gary VanConant.