Not Even Getting Close

they shine the sun on rats by lifting covers
and tell themselves they represent the sun

they bomb the little children and their mothers
we stay inside our restaurants having fun

and me i spend my life hide in the shallows
and nothing make me stand up grab a gun

like i live forever i avoid the gallows
while the others’ childrens’ bones bleach in the sun

they say they had to shoot john get him down
get him quiet and leave the loonies lone

nobody has to shoot i stay home drown
my conscience front an altar carved from bone

i getting crazy hearing voices whisper
put my head in pillows peek but don’t walk out

like i waiting for a benediction vespers
the whispers work they way up to a shout

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