Thursday, May 10, 2007

In a Dark Church Somewhere

Well, your crocheted lamb’s head,
It’s true the heat moves through it.
We’ve all been over-baked, you know.
You packed enough lies
In your green apple pies
That I believe I’ll have to abstain
While sleeping overnight with the insane.

Well, I heard that they were praying.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
God was just a foreign spy, you know.
He said they were putting him to sleep.
I was nursing him in my cheap
Nun’s suit, simply trying to explain
That I’m sleeping overnight with the insane.

The kitchen is hot
But that’s all we’ve got
For an exit. Maybe we can escape
Behind the magician’s cape,
But I doubt it.

There was something in the bread
That went up into my head,
And the television cried constantly.
Now I’ve hidden myself
Behind the garden elf,
And I keep crashing the pilot in my brain.
I guess he’ll be sleeping overnight with the insane.

My headache was pounding
And the bells were sounding
For someone in the sky.
Maybe we can grab him
If the wind don’t nab him
And make him fly.

I took it for granted the mirror's reflection.
I took it for granted that I was in-between.
I took it for granted that
The ghosts were covered in Vaseline.
Now you’ve fallen down the stairs
And nobody cares about your pain
When you’re sleeping overnight with the insane.

I went down to the basement
Where the dogs barked for their replacement.
They wore angel wings, you know.
They asked me to describe the world above them.
I just shrugged and muttered “Amen,”
And stepped out in the crying rain.
Sleeping every night with the insane.

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