Powdered Heaven dressed in plastic
pulled the shades down on his eyes.
Pinprick pupils soaring skywards
Offer him no alibis.
But then, who needs them? He's quite perfect.
Perfect body, perfect teeth
that flash sublime and blind the kids who
Spread their legs for their belief.
Who cross themselves at the drop of a parable;
Who scream they're saved when they've touched his jeans
Who swear his wisdom's just infallible
and beg for mercy -- in his dreams... Another day. another sermon.
Broken bread, forgotten lines.
A line for comfort keeps him human.
The needle trembles, band on tight.
Another little perforation
ventilates him and paints him white.
A wordless song, a prayer to no-one
but still he whistles through the night.
They found him on his throne of porcelain.
A rusty chain draped 'round his neck.
Incapable. Incoherent. His eyes switched off but a king no less!
The jury all wore black chewed razors.
Witnesses were D.O.A.
O.D'd, amoral, senses skewered.
Dribbling lies and tooth decay.
They declared his guilt. The defence said nothing...
sobbing as the judge turned blue
and washed his hands
and said "Lord forgive us,
for we know not what we do..."
"Drown in your soma bath!" They said, "Drown in your soma bath! What are
we gonna do with you? Let the punishment fit the crime! We have the technology. We got the instruments. Down! Down in your soma bath..."
