Hail The Gang's All Here

The Gordianites arrive at night
wearing their fine leather coats.
We notice them because they don't carry lutes,
but prefer to sing street songs
accompanied by inharmonious things
they wear on their hips.

They announce that they would
teach us to put on armor and
chase the weakest among us away.
"Be tough," they say," because we
like to wound and
don't want tears."

So they own the place now,
and when the tiny violets all die
they say good riddance.