red and yellow through this dirty window pane disturbing your sediments of classic form and thought wrapped in purposeless veneers of worthless words and countless years of thievery and hopes of blacker days
but we don't like this not quite one bit no we don't, no sir we just won't speak more softly safely wanting what we're told to save and hope for
sleep, sweet sleep please define our lives for us so we can can sleep so we can trust that they are righteous because after all we are the promised land we own the promised land