<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=572187" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Silver Guilt</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silver guilt, silver guilt<br>My birth was not a festival, <br>No ceremonies were held, <br>No priests gathered, I was not anointed, <br>But the firey palms of my mother were overwhelmed, <br>They were traintracks across which my youth spent many days cradled, <br>Hopsital, <br>I was not praised, I was not awarded medals, <br>I was not declared anything pretentious nor given any titles, <br>I was not thought of as a savior, <br>I was not a king, nor a prince, <br>I desired nothing, I desired breath, <br>I didn't know what breath was, <br>I still don't know why I breathe, <br>And I still don't know what breath is, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silver guilt, silver guilt, <br>9 to 5 for what? <br>To return to a quiet family, <br>A chore-ridden wife, <br>A stressed child, <br>And a color-screen television, <br>I desire nothing, no one desires anything from I, <br>I hope you're satisfied, <br>No journey, <br>Silver guilt, <br>Nicotined lungs, <br>Face for the radio, <br>Sandpapered coffins on sale, <br>Find out the price, <br>You fork ransoms to die, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>- Huf Hale, written 5 August 1963</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Huf+Hale">Huf Hale</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=572187" data-title="Silver Guilt de Huf Hale" data-description="Silver guilt, silver guilt My birth was not a festival, No ceremonies were held, No priests gathered, I was not anointed, But the firey palms of my mother were overwhelmed, They were traintracks across which my youth spent many days cradled, ..."></div> </div> </div>

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