soundtracks racing by as we watch lives,
the door always open but never going in
out in the dark the light from the door may as well be another poison
we are just a daughter of a father
there are no qualifications to be one you know.
a stale and moldy mass of limbs, call it humanity
and you misspoke,
we are not your equal
soggy with tears in the muddy moldy city on the river
swollen slowly, stench rising like a mirage in the desert, wavy
waiting for another heartache
we let our heart get tired of it all and went looking for Ra
does anyone want to tell us where we're going?
if the city lost its people and the people lost their souls
then what will happen to the muddy brown bayous?
out from the club sings the sax, people draw near
drowning out the birds now they want to hold it in
it can't all happen and be at the same time in the same place all the time
for now it's another late day downpour
leaving the church so we can follow Jesus
twirling once a lacy white umbrella in the second line
keeping step next to the little red wagon and its urn
here we are again back in the streets but not homeless
but we can't find a priest anywhere
I waited too long for asking -- you're already gone.
Hymn of tempering
12 hours ago