I wore the shell of a cockroach.
Donned over my shoulders, I became king.
A wonderful life, Lord of all that is.
Close your eyes and envision a field.
It is dotted with speckles of wheat and cat-tails.
In the distance you spy a single tree stretched tall.
Beneath it under the shade,
won't you sit for a spell with me?

Let the wax of the day melt away.
My child we can be free, sitting still.
Then slash at our wrists
let the blood drain and stain the earth.
We will be white, cold husks,
our sins forgotten, washed away,
our corpses baked by the morning sun.