The Hurricane

In the eye of a hurricane
There is quiet
For just a moment
A yellow sky.

When I was seventeen a hurricane
Destroyed my town
I didn't drown
I couldn't seem to die.

I wrote my way out
Wrote everything down far as I could see
I wrote my way out
I looked up and the town had its eyes on me.

They passed a plate around
Total strangers
Moved to kindness by my story
Raised enough for me to book passage on a
Ship that was New York bound…

I wrote my way out of hell
I wrote my way to revolution
I was louder than the crack in the bell
I wrote Eliza love letters until she fell
I wrote about The Constitution and defended it well
And in the face of ignorance and resistance
I wrote financial systems into existence
And when my prayers to God were met with indifference
I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance.

In the eye of a hurricane
There is quiet
For just a moment
A yellow sky.

I was twelve when my mother died
She was holding me
We were sick and she was holding me
I couldn't seem to die.

Or you could let it go
The friend who would tell me not to do it is in the ground Or you could let it go Wait for it, wait for it
The enemies I have won't have anything on me now Or you could let it go Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it
I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory Or you could let it go Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it.

This is the eye of a hurricane this is the only way I can protect my legacy.

Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait…