The sheep of om

Hooves and chains pulled the chinaman and his carriage
When it stalled nothing would move it again
Looking infront of the carriage at plastic sheep whose limbs could never budge
And the chains so well crafted would never flex

Back to where the cul de sac boys lit their cigerettes with time to brag
And give poor advice and goad and bray
In the shade of the trees in the twilight of post tragedy
And back to the phone that fingers dialed panicking

We don´t question violence too much
Hands back to paper
We just follow and scream like stray livestock when it´s us...
whose Peace is being disturbed