Put a gun to my head
and paint the sky with my dreams
for there is glory in Death
now that we've forgotten
what he looks like
when he grows fat on our worthless souls
and walks the world
with a grin on his face.
"Why are you hiding like a pedagogue?"
he said, looking down at me.

I'm fighting against God
the deadbeat father I never had
I want to see His blood
fall like rain in Seattle
or flow like despair in Rochester

09/23/2001

Posted on 09/23/2001
Copyright © 2025 Gary Hoffmann