I stand at the edge where earth touches ocean
cliffs crumbling into the sea
what it is to live at the edge of towns
that cannot bear my company

I miss being among the familiar
everything above is loud and bright
everything below is whispers
we are not gods but wounded creatures

crazy Saints stare out at the world, wildly
in a boundless, floating state of limbo
and thought perhaps within this outlaws’ territory
they could throw off the stifling fears and anxieties

but we all float down here
aspiring to be Gods, if Angels fell
aspiring to be Angels, Men rebel
maybe this world is another planet’s hell

under orders to shoot the spy
I count the bullets in the dark
heroes burned at the stake evaporate into fireflies
a million faces at my feet but all I see are dark eyes

after all, God and the devil can never be divorced
and the swinging light makes on the wall
one great, twisted shadow of the two
watching, like vultures
waiting for the poison to take effect

the faceless men beneath
moving together in a rhythm like the sea
it splits the heart with its tempo and narcotic harmonies
and we will rot in the deserts they’ve created

at any moment human passions might rise up
and topple the world we know
they will fill our skins with wild dreams and grow
words open like a diamond on glass windows

cause people to panic and run to hurt each other
you could have been my own mother
my choice, my monsters
and all its rising fires could smother

like a false guard, false watch keeping
doesn’t she know, nights are for sleeping?

red is to stoplight, chills is to fever
and I will never be mentally sober