Sunday, November 6, 2011


A return of song
An entry to the throng
And God's will be done
And God's will be wrong

And God's will be misheard
Let it be misplaced
Let us eat a feast of lies
Let us stuff our face

At least we have a face
There are some who do not
Though my one love would tell us
That that's a quite wrong thought

I still had the drink
The elixir, the potion
The gift from Mother Goose
It set us all in motion

They thought I was asleep

When I had one eye open
They thought that they were safe
And now their arm is broken

I felt the change, I let it happen
I smashed the door and tugged him in
Or her, I'm not sure, but I snapped each bone
Until I was quite sure I'd win

They told me everything
How to get out
Or, more realistically,
How it was impossible, without a doubt

The building was a maze
The halls were infinite
The stairs never ended
The doors opened back into it

But they said nothing about the windows
Nothing about the glass
I smashed right through into open air
I fell upon the grass

Down six stories I fell
I don't know how I survived
But one thing is certainly for sure
I mostly will now thrive