We can’t be the stupid people anymore, doing what couldn’t

and shouldn’t be done, disciples line behind my back

to show those big shots what’s what, you must know that they speak lies

but I never will, and everything will be buttercream in the future

with turbo and badass rock guitar, Jesus is gonna come

burning satan’s dumb pawns, because our lack of faith

brought vengeance christ, extracting his price

with an apocalypse, of which I am harbinger

arbiter in a breath, signaling and leading the line two

up a lighting street, trombones and baritones

blare arrhythm joy, concluding in rouse

until days later, the landscape is naught.

 

Burned barns are all over the place, downtown are the wicked

brokers and lenders, way downtown till they’re

non grata to everyone, even those in tatters

becoming more numerous, by the day they strike out

blaring with fire and dazzle, feathers on their hats

shine hope out their eyes, but their judgment comes

on a turn rolled card, ending up in the pokey

or an office chain gang, made and born to fall

in line and keep a low voice, dormant till the next

time an ignition sparks, and fire is every thing

when all are things aflame, so leave them be

because we are all dead, but think our corpses

will nourish the soil in eons, for though all childless

and alone bodies now, we were the true shepherds.