Bassist, Songwriter, Composer/Arranger


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The Heat of the Flame

I have walked among the ashes
through the blackened bricks and wood
I’ve watched the weeds take over
where the house you built once stood
Now looters fight among themselves
to claim the cold remains
they’re raping in your shadow
killing in your name

          The heat of the flame still burns me
          the smoke stings my eyes and brings me to tears
          The heat of the flame still burns me
          still burns me

There are houses built on high hilltops
with redwood walls like shields
and houses made of cardboard
in the alleys and the fields
but a house that’s built on principles
will just as surely catch
if those who build must bow
to any fool who strikes a match


When a man becomes a martyr
there’s a sigh of great relief
for his legend can be used
by any beggar, king or thief
They’ll quote your famous final words
tint your photograph
and the hand that pulled the trigger
will write your epitaph







© 1991 by jeffrey wash