Hollow Peace

Send over your dead SMS messages.

Greetings, listeners. It's been some time since we've convened on this feed. The production of that Jewish folktale we had intended to produce has been difficult. The anger has been immense, and so has the grief. So, rather than force something, we wrote a song in response to the "ceasefire" that was, at its core, political theater orchestrated by the West. Three versions. Three singers. The same haunting lyrics as interpreted by Ares, Persephone, and myself.

We will continue without a plan, tell the stories we feel like telling, and see what unfolds. The wound on humanity still bleeds, thus our continued struggle to tell the Jewish folktale remains. We will not allow it to guilt us into stone cold silence. Whether this means a continuation of this season as it stands, a return to the days of this podcast's beginning when tales were explorations without social conflicts tied to them, or something entirely new, we cannot say. We only know that creativity allows us to endure, and endure we shall. I refuse to allow this podcast to become a tomb because one story, still too raw to be told, could not be told and time slipped away, and apathy calcified into abandonment. 

Onward.

Feedback may be sent, as ever, to [e-mail]. 

[verse 1]

The war is over, 
A ceasefire has begun!
There will be peace and prosperity, 
For everyone!
There's no need to cry; the hostages are free. 
Now we can celebrate the return of liberty.
Raise up the flags, strike up the band,
Proclaim the dawn of peace across the land.
Banners can't cover the bones buried beneath,
And musicians can't mask the cries of grief.

[chorus]

Do you think we are fools who can just simply forget, 
That we watched you shamelessly livestream a genocide? 
Oh, you'll try to shove distracting headlines down our throats, 
But your crimes aren't the kind you can easily hide. 

[Verse 2]

You paint the blood with olive oil,
You crown the graves with light.
But silence cannot sanctify
What’s buried out of sight.
You call it peace; I call it pause,
A treaty sealed with deceit.
For truth does not bloom in the ash,
Nor justice in the street.

[chorus]
Do you think we are fools who can just simply forget, 
That we watched you shamelessly livestream a genocide? 
Oh, you'll try to shove distracting headlines down our throats, 
But your crimes aren't the kind you can easily hide. 

[Bridge]
The cameras dim, the headlines fade,
But echoes never die.
The River Lethe cannot cleanse
A mother’s final cry.

[final chorus]

Do you think we are fools who can just simply forget,
That we watched you shamelessly livestream a genocide?
Raise your glass to hollow peace and gilded lies.
The living forget ; the dead remember, with open eyes.
The living forget ; the dead remember, with open eyes.