in old town
blood guilt and vendetta
were a man's best friend
law was intimate and personal
you paid for your transgressions
you were shunned
or given the silent treatment
perhaps stoned to death
by the community you chose to offend
back then we took care of our own
the village knew what was up
the village kept you well-informed
with time-tested ingrained instructions
and glances that said - no, don't do that
and even if their conventions and beliefs were illogical
even if they were completely off the fucking wall
like don't piss in the sun's direction
or no pork chops during the full moon
didn't matter
it was easier to drop the chop
and hold your water
you could eat the chop on a sunny day
or piss under the moonlight
that was ok, that was kosher
you knew where you stood
lines were drawn, signs were posted
you didn't even need the signs
the lines - invisible, indelible
i like that, i can live with it
i can get along under a peasant regime
where everybody minds everybody's business
i don't think i would feel so alone
old town
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