A Feast of Friends

Wow, I'm sick of doubt

Live in the light of certain south

Cruel bindings

The servants have the power

Dog-men and their mean women

Pulling poor blankets over our sailors

I'm sick of dour faces

Staring at me from the TV tower

I want roses in my garden bower

Dig?

Royal babies, rubies

Must now replace aborted strangers in the mud

These mutants, blood-meal for the plant that's plowed

They are waiting to take us into the severed garden

Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful

Comes death on a strange hour

Unannounced, unplanned for

Like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed

Death makes angels of us all

And gives us wings

Where we had shoulders

Smooth as raven's claws

No more money, no more fancy dress

This other kingdom seems by far the best

Until its other jaw reveals incest

And loose obedience to a vegetable law

I will not go

Prefer a feast of friends

To the giant family