Beauty On

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I hate you all--
you smell like borrowed ideas.
Cheap sanctified stolen ideals,
religious rot.
See the rock musician:
up on the stage, you cannot rock,
or will not rock.
ARE YOU WITH ME CINCINNATI? ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?
Oh...
I am not.

Shoot the lights out.
Forget the words.
You got no secrets.
You got no secrets,
You got no lies,
You can talk about anything here,
not blink our eyes--
it's a sickening song,
it's about
it's about love.

I remember Brampton, driving slowly by the Y
when I realised:
that when the Christians moved so much confection onto the fields of wildflowers
like Massey-Ferguson ploughs
they're only fighting for comfortable money!
Say it strong,
Let it be known,
I won't let you make this
Be proudly shown.

Shoot the lights out
on broken knees,
and beauty on,
and beauty on,
and beauty on.