Letters from the Savior

To the gov’nor

To the mayor

Un-received

Strychnine in your acid

Forms the placid faces

That you’ll never see

Pusher with the mayor

In a chauffeur-driven

Pop-proof limousine

Someone in the sky wants us to die

But I can’t tell you what I mean

Little girls are waving

But their graves are being marked

Right as we speak

Pusher has his eyeball

On the tall one with the gap

Between her teeth

Mayor breathes a sigh

While getting high enough

To kill all conscience seeds

Someone in the sky wants us to die

But I can’t tell you what I mean

And it’s sure getting bad

And it’s getting so sad

When truth slips away

I’ve got nothing to say . . . no

Mothers with their sons

Are getting closer to reality

I know

But some of them are dreaming

About scheming

For another boat to row

I’ve been watching movies

But they’re all about

The things I can’t believe

Someone in the sky wants us to die

But I can’t tell you what I mean

No, I can’t tell you what I mean

No, I can’t tell you what I mean

I just can’t tell you what I mean

Someone in the sky is getting high

But I can’t tell you what I mean

Copyright © 2008 Arley Owens, Jr. All Rights Reserved