To the Lazarus Generation
I weep for you, for your pride and decadence
For your obliviousness to your lost ness
And the deep darkness that surrounds you
The celluloid dreams you have woven
They are only mirages that deceive you
And can't quench the thirst within
The Idols and props you set up
They can't remedy nor help
The deep gash within your soul
Your self-inflicted wounds that putrefy
Which you can't cover, heal or pacify
With perfumery, fine linens, or psychiatry
Oh that you would turn to me
I who raised Lazarus from the pit
I would be a balm for your sickness
I would alter your destiny
And preserve your soul
Like a firebrand plucked
Wrenched out of the devils arms
Out of hell's inferno
