Psychotic Beasts

Psychotic Beasts
© Surazeus
2015 06 03

We float through the open door of our eyes
and soar on the broken wings of lost faith
to play hide and seek in the field of lies
and listen amused to the singing wraith,
now that we are ruled by psychotic beasts
disguising themselves as pastors and priests.

We open the book of old shepherd tales
and hide our real faces with ancient masks
to replay the roles of dead gods and kings
in social games with no reason or rhyme,
now that we are ruled by psychotic beasts
disguising themselves as pastors and priests.

We stand in the temple of freezing stone
and drink sweet blood of our savior as wine
then walk windy heath in horror alone
to talk with crows on the telephone line,
now that we are ruled by psychotic beasts
disguising themselves as pastors and priests.

I step outside glass door of the clean church
and stare at gold hills of the rugged coast
where ocean waves weep with angelic tunes
and blind prophet carves his own secret runes,
now that we are ruled by psychotic beasts
disguising themselves as pastors and priests.

My ancestors walked in mountains of snow,
your ancestors walked in deserts of sand,
together we dance in American hills,
teaching our children to sing new-made songs,
now that we are ruled by psychotic beasts
disguising themselves as pastors and priests.