it has become some sort of certain path of destruction
watching the molotov cocktails whip past
as i sit in my church window and wait
and wonder
why is he letting this happen now
the wind is more sonorous, bellowing
through the underground chambers and the lock-and-key crypt
do we have something to hide?
fate's little Cesta has run itself aground
i watched it mow through the cornfields
and saw them drag 500 kilos of cocaine
out of the back
on the evening news
Faith's pocketwatch is broken
the glass is cracked
the shards are in her pocket
she's playing chess with the Queen of Hearts
while Time and Death play croquet
and i wonder why they let them pass
it's just another day
back