A Tall Copper Cactus With One Act of Art
This is a ballad for the broken—those dancers shaped not by their own bodies, breath, and longing, but by rules, techniques, and borrowed postures layered on top of each other like ill-fitting armor. They stand frozen, stitched together by every teacher’s echo and every codice’s command, dancing not from the soul, but from the neck up.
Like Copper, they are beautiful in form but hollow inside—prickly with expectations, weathered by performance, waiting for movement that never quite feels like home.
This song is for the dancers who’ve been told too much and touched too little.
For the ones who ache to feel, but hear only instructions.
For the tender spirits who still stand out in the rain, waiting for a home in the arms of the music.
Listen close. You might hear yourself in his rusted silence.
Or maybe… you’ll finally begin to move from the inside out.
Copper The Cactus
Copper the cactus has really long thorns He looks at sahuaros and feels so forlorn
It pokes me right here in the heart Airbrushing metaphor’s art

He’s hammered and battered from copper and steel Enamored with cattle that never looked real
An icon that tares at my heart Copper thorns straight through the heart

Sunshine’s a halo that shows how he’s made Reflections like sparkles exchanging sharp blades
Lightning strikes not far from here The thunder melts wax in his ears

Oh the tall copper cactus stood out in the rain Water got in and it melted his brain
He’s only got one act of art And it pricks you right here in the heart

Oh the lonely old cactus he stands all alone Hoping and praying that he’ll find a home
It stabs you right here in the heart An icon of metaphor’s art

Lightning drives darkness away from his soul And into the harshness he stands in the cold
Thunder that echoes so clear Reminds him that he still can’t hear

Copper the cactus he needs a good home