Following the horrible dusk
enough light is left in the sky
for illumination
of a terrible storm on the rise.

The sheep'll stand in a line
on the ridge overnight.

Under that fluff,
the hot, beautiful blood
rushes,
under cool covers
and endless,
empty, winter skies.

Stay close, kids,
keep each other warm,
I say,
I pray,
while crouching
over smoking twigs
in the valley.

then from the eye in the sky,
(the sad, scarred moon,
who spins, hides, winks, cries,
and opens wide)
I hear Jesus say:
"son, there's no innocents left.
I thought like that once.
But, shepherd boys
just save their flock
for shearing and lamb chops.
I quit once I found out
from my boss.
so, don't be a heathen.
though,
either way,
you won't end up
up here,
I hear."

dear.
does it matter
if hell and heaven hath disappeared?
there's worse evil up here.
there's more mercy down here.

But, goddamn!

find a disguise
(crows coats like the old man said),
cover our bodies,
shut our eyes,
turn off our mind,

cause the sheep stand freezing in a line.

by morning
they'll forever disappear,
while the sun brightly shines,
hidden under

white snow like a veil
dropped from the sky,
adorning my bride.

Jesus,
please don't make me look inside.
I don't want to see
my only lover's
carved out, hollow eyes.

I didn't ask for any boney hand.
to be tied for life
to Death.
where was my choice?

"Where was mine."

I see in the snow
the skeleton's glow

is reflecting off the moon,
who mirrors the sun,
who never had a father
to keep him in line.

"I know, I know.
I'll pray for the sheep,
but he doesn't really
listen to me."

well,
at least we can agree.