Salt Of The Earth


When you look out of your window, what do you see?
Traffic and people, maybe a cut-down tree.

When you open your door, what do you smell?
Almost odorless, probably poison, but you never can tell.

When you open your window, what do you hear?
The sound of the beast, feeding of domesticated fear.

What do you see looking at the sky at night?
Barley a star, just a blanketed dome made of city light.


Poor people's barracks covering the valley like straggly moss,
churches like breathing giants, bearing their builder's cross.

High towers bending like grass in the storm,
bridges made of steel, cooing like a newly-born.


What would happen if you look out your window at the open seas?
Or if you start your day watching a line of trees?

What would you do for a clear vision of the stars at night?
But what about the horrors that are back with no light?

How would you feel living in a home like a breath of roses?
But would you face the perils untamed nature imposes?


This city was raised by many generations, stone by stone,
It has a graveyard for it's builders, and a life of its own.

Words & Music: Michael Michaelis

Michael: Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Keyboard, Alto Recorder, Violin & Viola, Cymbals & HiHat, Wave Drum (Snare, Bass Drum, Toms, Percussion).

Recorded, edited, and mixed proudly using Cubase.

(Last Update: 17.2.2018)

[All Rights reserved. © Michael Michaelis, 2018]

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