Theme for the Cross

The sky was open and gorgeous The blue was a view but was tortured Chemtrails poke holes through cumulus Swept sweat that went to find water A tin can flew off to Majorca The TV had said that you ought to The same show protested the order From 50 foot cigs blow smoke across the border To men that drowned holding their daughters And weren’t allowed refuge from the horrors Destruction was mutual and bored us I ain’t felt this world and It’s orbit I haven’t felt this world and it’s orbit TV runs the shows creds and goes dead Now it’s time to climb bed and be well slept Sometimes I watch the TV in my head