From every living room, disturbing
The most intimate of family gatherings
To show how we are sinners all, low,
Unworthy of the God that Is no longer.
His people do some things the real ones wouldn't dream:
They take pills and kill, need no reason to steal,
Betray like they can’t read the how-to-be human manual.
The embarrassment of actors is near enough to what we know
We look the other way as they turn inevitably into monsters,
Even the heroes and heroines, no, especially those,
For they must kill them all,
Disregard every kindness,
Stand as some Shiva of Karma
Because thy slaughterous will must be done
In cape and uniform,
That's the only way it's possible
For the plot-math resolution;
The get-up of the garbage man
With superhuman muscle tone.
We go out, once a week, for more damnation.
Whiff of the monstrance at the concert hall,
Beds of Egyptian red, goblets on altars,
The audience brought like a sea to one motion
Before they're released, for that's what power does.
