In a place where the cold
Is desert dry with
Sheets of blinding light
Mostly abandoned
Except for some who cling
To thin coats
And desperately dig for diamonds
Deep in a bed of
Cold concrete
While the Cardinal sings a lonely song
For those like him who don't belong
Hungry giants with one hundred arms
Starve themselves
Their dry skin cracks and breaks
While they shake off the white shame
They carried the ones they loved
But now they're gone
Left to fight for another life
While the Cardinal confused and left alone
Lies upon his bed of stone
The father and creator of day
Is hiding behind a blanket of grey
And when he peers over the edge
A blinding reflection
Sends him away to die again
While the Cardinal sings the funeral march
Perching there upon the larch
We all wear denial on our sleeves
And bravely battle
In a war that was over before it was won
Like creatures of habit
With wool for a gun
And apathy as ammunition
As the pacifists fly westward
And head for the pacific
And when the sun begins to shine for some
The Cardinal knows his time has come
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Seperation
A policeman told me
To change my name
And drain my blood
To dry my veins
I stared at him
And then refused
His neck turned black
And white from blue
I saw his gun
Turn into words
That spoke of nature
but went unheard
Then from his tongue
The bullets flew
A soothing sound
Of the morning dew
To change my name
And drain my blood
To dry my veins
I stared at him
And then refused
His neck turned black
And white from blue
I saw his gun
Turn into words
That spoke of nature
but went unheard
Then from his tongue
The bullets flew
A soothing sound
Of the morning dew
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Outdated
A fear of fashion
Breeds boredom
Leaves you stuck
Apathetic and unaware
His holiness
Wears a corset
Hides and denies
A figure that's fake
Static super-models
On a gothic catwalk
And salmon bishops
In a river of mud
This is beyond retro
Or vintage vicars
It's the dementia
Of medieval trendsetters
Grace is covered
In red robes
Like the spawn in the river
Are destined to die
The suit of armor
Replaced by a collar
But the sword's still there
Inside of his head
Breeds boredom
Leaves you stuck
Apathetic and unaware
His holiness
Wears a corset
Hides and denies
A figure that's fake
Static super-models
On a gothic catwalk
And salmon bishops
In a river of mud
This is beyond retro
Or vintage vicars
It's the dementia
Of medieval trendsetters
Grace is covered
In red robes
Like the spawn in the river
Are destined to die
The suit of armor
Replaced by a collar
But the sword's still there
Inside of his head
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Celtic Tiger Ate My Dreams
The celtic tiger ate my dreams
Swallowed them whole
Just before it was killed
By what looked like an elephant
The fat white beast
Saw me with swollen eyes
Tried to apologize
But spoke only in riddles
What he couldn't give you
I now take away
Mine to create
And mine to betray
Then they faded away
Leaving me in the middle
Swallowed them whole
Just before it was killed
By what looked like an elephant
The fat white beast
Saw me with swollen eyes
Tried to apologize
But spoke only in riddles
What he couldn't give you
I now take away
Mine to create
And mine to betray
Then they faded away
Leaving me in the middle
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