it might seem to you
the heady taste of sin
has wounded me
has caved my spirit in
but you can please yourself
I might be indiscreet
but when I squeeze myself
I swear the juice is sweet
it might seem to you
that something’s gone awry
and I feel it too
I couldn’t tell you why
but when the spotlight throws my shadow
it’s a powerful relief
now the party’s still a party, but something’s sour underneath
so it seems to me
Cassandra told no lies:
Call it lunacy
but don’t call me surprised
if the road we’re on
should somehow shift and crack
’til the path is gone
and none can bring it back
and on the blood-soaked ground a third of you are dying
and in some cold compound a third of you are dead
and I wish this vicious vision was all stupid superstition
but I can’t get it out of my head
so it seems to me
for what my word is worth
keep the exits free
and an ear down to the earth
and when the heels are swinging smartly
in obeisance to the chief
you should listen for the murmur of something cracking underneath
you can count the stars
as one by one they die
so it seems to me
that heaven is a lie
and I know everyone’s entitled
to the strength of their belief
so you can plan your grand ascension, and I’ll meet you underneath.