Is the time yet ripe for Mikey Golightly to re-emerge?
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Straight to hell, boys, let's jump on that bus
it's leaving soon and there's just a few seats left,
I'm gonna sit up front and make sure the
driver doesn't listen to some ignorant preacher
who screams out Bible verses but doesn't
stop long enough to hear Jesus,
asking myself if I'm the new messiah
because I outlived God's self-declared son.
I've checked off every sin, but my
commandment breaks aren't worth repeating.
I bought my ticket the day they went on sale
and even as the flames start licking the
windows and the rest of the passengers scream
for air while the sulfur and brimstone
guarantee that this bus is going to
get to the promised land long before
the scheduled arrival,
I'm just sitting silently and not wasting
my last breaths on a God that wasn't
there in the first place.
I've always made the most of midnight
heart burns and dead lovers nailed to
the sides of collapsing memory walls,
whatever schedule they followed will
one day drop them into the same
skin-melting pit with me, and I'm
still gentleman enough to give them
my last glass of water.