The Grand Comedian, God,
Works a smoky room,
Stands in a dusty gloom,
Playing to His lost audience
Who’re blinded by the light.
He plays an old accordion,
It’s His ancient rite.
But our indifference wielded sabers blades as we sliced away.
With our steely swords
We slashed the Houses of the Lord.
Religion had become our sharpened knives to scratch,
In the name of Him
We tallied our evil deeds upon A birch’s branch.
The semblance of our beings
Formed from rivers of
Borne from rivers cold.
Chanting consensual covenants
Of black and bewitching powers, it was our
Best of evil hours!
Our voices chimed together,
You are here with us, you’re not one of us.
You are them so you are not one with us.
The earthly morning was the evening
In those darkened days.
No arms hugged or held within,
Silence was our scarred skin, an outer layer
between each and every other.
We sang for the spirit of God
To slowly fall from grace,
For our time is time and
Our space is space.
There’s only time to drink gin
And play a game to win.
Nietzsche got it right.
God was dead to us fools, used as a tool,
To finish off the secret ones who hid their ways.
We shoveled frozen dirt in ‘43
In the Winter of Unmarked Graves.
It was a sin to have differences, it was a sin to be in pain,
A sin to be manic in the mania of the insane.
It was a sin to be lost in the chambers
Of the diagram of the Lord,
It was a sin to kneel or genuflect or even love
The one above.
We died a frozen death
When there was nothing left to gain.
Our hewn heads bowled down
As we bowed our heads to be slain.
A sliver of a verse of suns
Was a new prayer to be sung.
Hallow be the names of the fallen saints!
Now, night is only night,
We will put our arms around the ones in fright,
We will soothe the ones in pain,
With no walls or barriers
We’ll learn to build and save.
We’ll do no evil anymore,
We will be holy and be brave.
With picnics and trips to the Poconos,
Heaven only knows!
To find the Grand Comedian,
The master of the accordion!