Crude signs painted
with the blood of the
living denounced
their latest decree.

Standing at the podium
spreading more lies.
All the world be your
theater and
nothing here is real.

Daytime cocktails under the
shadows of the palms.
Blood thinning and
running cold.
Cold like the serpent in the
summer sun.

You left your dreams in a
waste basket a few miles
outside of Vegas.
And all there is to do
is turn the music up
and lie to her some more.

Black draped youth
waving flags of
revolutionary red.

Pock scarred and some beautiful faces
all aimed up towards the waters.
The sound of millions in the know.
Voices echo off the firmament
and cause ripples to race across
the very fabric of the heavens.

All of them screaming
"We KNOW!!"

And the Gods remained silent
as their secret held no more.