Letters From The Savior

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

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

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

Copyright © 2008 Arley Owens, Jr. All Rights Reserved

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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