Powdered Heaven dressed in plastic pulled the shades down
on his eye. Pinprick pupils soaring skywards Offer him no
alibis. But then, who needs them? He's quite perfect.
Perfect body, perfect teeth that flash sublime and blind
the kids who Spread their legs for their belief. Who
cross themselves at the drop of a parable; Who scream
they're saved when they've touched his jeans Who swear
his wisdom's just infallible and beg for mercy -- in his
dreams... Another day. another sermon. Broken bread,
forgotten lines. A line for comfort keeps him human. The
needle trembles, band on tight. Another little
perforation ventilates him and paints him white. A
wordless song, a prayer to no-one but still he whistles
through the night. They found him on his throne of
porcelain. A rusty chain draped 'round his neck.
Incapable. Incoherent. His eyes switched off but a king
no less! The jury all wore black chewed razors. Witnesses
were D.O.A. O.D'd, amoral, senses skewered. Dribbling
lies and tooth decay. They declared his guilt. The
defence said nothing... sobbing as the judge turned blue
and washed his hands and said "Lord forgive us, for we
know not what we do..." "Drown in your soma bath!" They
said, "Drown in your soma bath! What are we gonna do with
you? Let the punishment fit the crime! We have the
technology. We got the instruments. Down! Down in your
soma bath..."
