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.