Detachment Kit 11.22.63
it's as if everything you see back in 1963, black hearts
among them kneeling. only one of them was screaming - go.
they've got fire up in trees. in the balance, in the
breeze. hold the trigger with some feeling. as the choir
sings out of key - they sing: blood! mistrust! and the
love of god! red, white, blue and bleed through the
pearly gates i see dead air, an army of greed. with holes
in their hearts i see making plans to mark the art, a
silver lining falls apart. with sinners digging graves in
sand, we land ourselves trembling hands. great god. bury
hard, with all our might- we might make our mark. holding
hands to choke belief. gripping people that we need. in a
moment they were stealing a thief that stole a piece of
me.
