Intolerance strikes like a serpent's bite
War drums beat throughout the night
Battle lines drawn in a fit of rage
The powers to be rule the stage

History tells of days of old
Dropping bombs, selling souls
What have we gained, oh hand of power
We give, we take, but mostly devour

One prays for an end to hate
One builds a bomb to annihilate
Through a camera's eye we watch and frown
National Monuments tumbling down...

let's be honest
sometimes I turn
towards the wall at
night and close my
eyes, I can see your
hairline, a fracture
of scoliosis in your
curved spine, I can
almost trace
the bumps of
your vertebrae
through that
thin cotton
sweater

let's be honest

you start to turn over
before I lose you in the
geometric dark, sometimes
our eyes play tricks on us and
we see colors, well, sometimes
mine play jokes and I see you.