Well the lay people,
they asked me to do it.

It was the little minds
of frantic maids
and summers' sunsets
bled out, betrayed.

But no one was ever sure
of the day.

There still exists a ticking
in your time-piece,
and it's rather sad I never drugged you.

No, nobody ever really
understood your eyes.

But how can I,
be sure it wasn't all a dream?
When the thinning lion reared her heavy head
round Main street,
and I hid in that mane,
till the sun was a planet,
and god froze to death on the church floor.

No, no one had a clue what we were doing
at the time.

Gigantic ape heads parade the streets
impaled on long black spears,
carried by swastika toting hipsters in the night.

"Meet me beneath the floor of Gallshoitz library
at 215 tomorrow, there's news they're actually burning
people alive."

11/30/2010