Build a fire
And stoke it with gasoline
And TNT
And the wicked poor flesh
And watch the careen
Into the baddest crash
You have ever seen

Watch while I smile
Because I love to love this
Life’s hot kiss
And its empty remembrance
Of what was not pain

“Who’s going to carry the platter that holds the head of John? The hammered silver shimmered; the snakes on its face were brilliant in a brilliant design crawling from under the head that was guilty of thе crime. And the scribes and thе scabs came and the old women and all the hags came to view in death, as in life John-of-Dreams quiet and nodding. And they made a smooth furrow a hollow hole his resting place. And they dumped his damp shroud after him and his old ruddy and robust had become pale and thin. The shriek in the thickets reduced to a whisper that echoed finally silent. The end was truly at hand as he said and above the crime and the penance was an inscription that read ‘Pass the strictest sentence’”

So light it up in black and blue
And Christmas green
And invite me in
And shoot me down
And curse this love like kindness
Because the smoke is always thick
In the love of God and blindness
Thick enough to make you sick
And sick enough to make you stop