MICROCOSM

She shudders and crosses herself. Yes, she’s made her 

choices.

She drums her blood red fingernails. Haunted by the voices.

They turn thoughts to fire, diamonds to glass, and I believe the shoe fits.

“Our Father”, she says, wheezing one last deep breath in 

through her curled lips.

 

The sound rings down as I wait in the station.

Luxury. Cold air blowing through the tube.

A wise idea, watch it fall. Like a germ, we’re so small...fading.

 

I wait deep inside the storm drain, drinking rusty water.

So this is the thanks I get for all of my toil and bother.

The hawk now stands for peace, and good equals bad, and 

Jesus fell from Graceland.

In his thorns and his gown, he was still kneeling down to hear what the King said.

 

The sound rings down as I wait in the station.

Luxury. Cold air blowing through the tube.

A wise idea, watch it fall. Like a germ, we’re so small...fading.

Fading. Fading.

 

 

JVA - Lead Vocals, Guitars