Under the influence of alcohol I seek,
The bonds that have tied me to the past,
The stagnant water now flows,
While unknown talent grows,
Let the audience stand up aghast,
At the wreckage of the stage I wreak.
Take a second look at the painted backdrop,
That hangs by one thread and is woven by lies,
Here is the picture you are told to love,
Here is the desecration of the word from above,
A snake climbs the staff held over the cries,
Directing them to pay at the door of the shop.
Where is compassion in professional pride?
When money makes the path that all tread,
And caring is measured by rewards gained,
Have you so soon forgotten how long it rained
To wash away every misplaced bed,
Take a second look at the horse you ride.
It is not a horse
It is not even a unicorn,
It has two horns.
It belongs in Hell with me so,
I recognise you devils, as you parade in your borrowed feathers.
All pictures were destroyed by the enumerable lies that surrounded them.