Come watch the leaves turn red in Central Park. When the morning comes and the sky stays dark. Your face is stern But I can see through. And I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna rip his throat out with your hands. He won’t have a chance to say, “you’ve got the wrong man!” Hold on. Just hold on. Is it my imagination? Or does patience make more sense? Those men decided it was time to leave. Finally your story was believed. But as they went they stepped on feet. And it’s hard to show grace in defeat. You’re gonna throw a rock against a wall. And it won’t hurt them, But your life is very small to them. You make decisions with a bloody nose. Stare down all the thinkers but your eyes are closed. You think it’s the best way. But it’s just the only way you know. You’re staring as your life slips away from you. You gotta hold on to something you think is true. You think it’s the best way. Give it a moment.