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the children wear their faith like bracelets their passion like a wreath of bones a lumbering hydra with hardening heads steam from its talons, liquid chrome oh the children cling to peace the light through the socket of your eye of glass they hope and they perish in the fire atrophied and situated at an impasse bless the Lord, oh my soul! the apple in your mouth the worm that gnaws it down to the pit the things you go without born into a prison they can't escape there's no escape, there's no escape born into a prison they can't escape the children stand in line and wait to take the medicine conform their thoughts, espouse the doctrine, accept the discipline an animal scratches its back on a rock against the planet's teeth, it subjugates the stone the children, warped and genuflected disappearing, all alone. From Letras Mania