The Song Fight Bulletin Board

Beneath A Cold Sky
Pigfarmer Jr

I wake up and I ask god
Each and every day
"What the fuck are you trying to pull,
Why do you treat us this way?"

But I don't get an answer
I guess I'll never know why
We are all stranded here
Beneath a cold sky

Sometimes I feel better
Don't quite feel like shit
But then life likes to knock me down
Destroy me bit by bit

But I won't get an answer
I guess I'll never know why
We are all stranded here
Beneath a cold sky

And when I'm sitting all alone
In the darkness of the night
I wonder what's the point of this
I wonder why I fight

But I won't get an answer
I guess I'll never know why
We are all stranded here
Beneath a cold sky

I won't get an answer
I guess I'll never know why
We are all stranded here
Beneath a cold sky
We are all prisoners here
Beneath a cold sky

Beneath a Cold Sky
Lichen Throat

Me and Tom and some other guys had a place just off of Yonge Street.
Snowshoed hikes in the cold ravine were better than walks on concrete.
Linseed oil and turpentine at the edge of the maple wood,
Plein air sketching on little boards anytime we could.
Dark red leaves and windblown trees beneath a cold sky,
Moments slowly freeze in time as paint solidifies.

Tom’s canoe was upside-down,
They searched for him with half the town,
Then eight days later found him drowned
And buried him on the banks.
I painted ships in Halifax,
Then German mustard gas attacks.
And dead men lying in the tracks
Of mud left by the tanks.
So many dead beneath a cold sky,
So far from home, in rows they lie.
We only wanted to paint rocks and trees,
Not ruined buildings and warships at sea.

Seven men with tubes of paint
Roamed throughout the north.
Ice-cold hands, but no complaints,
Each day we went forth.
Bright red leaves, clouds above,
And snowy mountain peaks—
We’d teach our countrymen to love
This land, so long thought bleak.
Up north, beneath a cold sky,
The landscapes came to life.
The colors mixed and then applied
By brush and palette knife.