VEGANGELICA

Hello MB people,

As Thanksgiving (aka "Tofurkey Day" among many vegetarians/vegans) approaches in the U.S., I decided to share the lyrics of a song, "Miles," that I wrote last year based on a true story. I have been intending to shorten the lyrics because the recorded vocals last almost 7 minutes (!), but the pages have sat around for over 12 months without me making any cuts...and so I think if I really wanted to I would have shortened the song by now.

I think the reason for my inaction is that I want the song to stay as true as possible to what actually happened, including all the details. Why? Probably because I know most people wouldn't care for a second about what happens to the song's hero...so the least I can do for him is give him a 7-minute song, which is more than most people ever get. Somehow that feels to me like a little bit of justice.

Before I share the lyrics, though, I want to say thank you, FooFighting, for reading "Dichotomy," which you called a "bloody good song" using that amusing and vivid British/Australian slang term that I've always felt is very interesting. "Dichotomy," like "Miles," was inspired by Thanksgiving and is yet another song of mine that would deeply consternate and trouble my many relatives who don't mind eating blood but don't like to talk about it.

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"MILES" by Erica

Driving down the road, she took a sudden turn
at a livestock farm to see what she could learn.
She’d passed them often, for miles and miles and miles.

No answer at the farmhouse door, so she went
across the dusty yard to see in the confinement,
one of many for miles and miles and miles.

The barn was open so she stepped inside
to see a sea of white stretching far and wide.
It seemed to go on for miles and miles and miles.

Ten thousand doomed eyes gazed up at her and then
she looked down and saw a baby bird inside the pen,
no longer distanced by miles and miles and miles.

What would you do to save a life?
Would you pick a baby up, would you put down your fork and knife?
How does a person decide who counts?
She saw friends others valued just in cash amounts.

Without a second thought about what she’d been taught,
she picked the baby up, whether that was right or not.

She tucked him in her coat and took him to her car.
When faced with choices, we find out who we are.
She chose the road of mercy and she traveled for miles.

Never looking back, she put the distance between
this little bird and his future she’d seen.
The road to freedom went for miles and miles and miles.

When they stopped at last, they shared a good long look.
She named him Miles for the journey he took,
his one chance to flee for miles and miles.

She made him a cosy and comfy home,
with a bed on the porch and a garden to roam,
much more than anyone had ever offered to Miles.

Can you steal someone someone shouldn’t own,
like a sentient being whose life should be his own?
How does a person decide who counts?
She saw a friend others valued just in cash amounts.

Miles grew quickly with the yard to explore,
with sun and trees and the grass he’d never known before.
It was a life full of wonder and joy for Miles.

Happiness for him was sitting in her lap,
closing his eyes and taking a nice, long nap.
Being with his friend was important to Miles.

When a year had passed since Miles was in his egg,
she saw a swelling growing in his lower leg
where an infection was starting to spread through Miles.

Since he was ill, she took him to the vet,
who laughed when someone said, “Hey, that’s dinner, not a pet!”
They couldn’t see any reason to care about Miles.

Funny how people ridicule
compassion, mercy, and the Golden Rule
to do unto others as you’d have done to you.
Our feathered friends and beasts of burden are others, too.

Strange how people pray for heaven and rebirth,
and yet for animals create a hell on earth.
Odd how people claim they’re thoughtful and kind,
when whom they eat never crosses their mind.

She took Miles home and gave the medicine to him,
but the infection went throughout his system
through his veins and capillaries traveling for miles.

He huddled on the porch and cuddled by her knee
as she gently smoothed his feathers soothingly.
The vet said there was nothing more to do for Miles.

The tragedy is he was bred to die.
People stole his family, his ability to fly.
They stole his future against his will.
Why breed longevity in someone you’re going to kill?

What would you do to save a life?
Would you open your heart, would you put down your fork and knife?
How does a person decide who counts?
She loved someone others valued just in cash amounts.

When morning came and Miles didn’t wake,
she sat and pondered how quickly death could take
away the warmth and the joyful friendship of Miles.

She buried him in a sunny spot in the yard.
He would have liked it there. Maybe dying’s not so hard
when you know that you are loved like Miles.

Turkey. People laugh at the word,
but he was more than just a beautiful bird,
Miles, Miles, Miles, Miles, Miles.

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