feeding themselves
on worms and beans
sitting on alters
next to greens
pounding on the heads
of their court jesters
clothing the king
with tar and feathers
gossip house
for the insane
rumors of nuns
snorting cocaine
avoiding the snow plows
chasing dairy trucks
mistaking them for milk cows
well you woke up
to an opera in your head
between the rocks
your feet in the clouds
the straight jacket
in the closet now
and your faimily
resting in the grave
your companions
lost their heads to the kind
for his chicken hair suit
you'd be next
but the bishop saved
your life when
he let the church bell ring
crowded slums
and your favorite sluts
would like to see
you die
and then feed the buzzards
or maybe taken away
to play with worms and lizards
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