Mark Lenover Talking In My Sleep
Actaeon died a stag
And once familiar wolves
Chewed upon his bloody rags
And paid for it in full
Tables turn
And all hunters are cut down and burned
The dogs who scattered his bones
Once his trusted friends
Threw the first of many stones
Pretending innocence
The devil in the machine
Wears a pretty skin
But sinners can't scour themselves clean
And none are without sin
Take a turn
Under a spotless microscope
You won't like what you learn
You're not as holy as you hoped you were
