oh my broken lamb I worry when you cry, baby's gonna fetch you horses in the sky. though dead hands ring the garden and these are violent times, and violence brings more violence and liars bring more lies. though we were born defeated, worried, tired and scared, and monsters build mean robots launching rockets into the air; and the wealth of our nations fed on angel blood and our cities shot with moneyed schemes built on twigs and mud; and our schools look like prisons and our prisons look like malls and downtown's just a sick parade where no one cares at all; and our heros all died crazy broken poor, or shot. Lets celebrate their tragedy and sanctify the loss and manifest the daydream like those who fell before and glorify our small attempts and hate ourselves no more.
blow words between this suckers teeth and bind theses panicked hands lose your heart like a clumsy bell, please be well.

and all I true love is the light in my sister's darling eyes.