The Land of Plenty

Come into this lonely land
all aboard your perilous flight
Disappear into the sand
your engines burst upon the night.
Strew ashes on the azure skies
stolen from the queen of birds
who issues reprimand but asks not why,
or where to find the perfect words
to say she'll never let you fly.
She sings it in her lullaby.

Columbine and dusky wing
convening on the telephone wire
talking heads and the songs they sing:
the crook, the thief, the sedulous liar.
Cross at lovers and famous others
who layer the earth with vile untruths
revelation is soon to follow
and those who run are most uncouth.
They lead us headlong to tomorrow;
woefully in the land of sorrow.

You put the right foot further forward
push us from our threadbare shoes.
You say we're going ever toward
something better if we should choose.
Almighty pigs and cancerous goons
and others leave us quite bereft
The temperamental pious loons
will hoard and toss us what is left,
or nothing if they haven't any
Sufferance in the land of plenty.