DEAD SKY COUNTRY

When this state
disintegrates
there will be peace
in our chaos
We will suck on our shame
like a cigarette
until it all disappears
into its unfurnished relm
of transluscent disillusionment
burned clean
by the black hole of bliss
and all the desires
we love to hate
no longer disappointed
by the feather touch
of this existence
that lacks the element of surprise

When the masses
get back in the mood
for self destruction
When smoking is stylish again
When the old dusty whores
get to tell their tales
with dignity
When the dogma
swings back my way
to the dark dreams
and starlight
I'll be there with bells on
and maybe
some black wings