The Cardinal

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