January 2010
2 posts
Fake. Pray. Offend.
I ain’t no moon; I’m a bankrupt saloon, bathing in booze like a mutinous platoon! Hear the captain?! He croons. Hear the guilt in his tune: “What, oh, what did I do? I thought that I couldn’t lose.”
1 tag
Man-Infested Destiny
My country, tis of thee, wasteland of broken dreams,
Of thee I sing:
There’s a brand new house where a home should be.
There’s a strip-mall where the trees used to sleep.
And when they finally met the ground,
The city drowned out the sound;
Oh, silent screams!
There’s a schoolyard fight where we used to swing.
There’s a gospel choir who’s forgotten how to...