The Torturers Apprentice By Lee Cassanell

Crack goes the whip and the innocents blink As the masochists crawl to the bar man A girl looks him over but he see right through her And knows she would fuck up his Karma. Lips part to speak but the word on the street is that everyone's heard his opinions A cigarette's bummed and he bites on your tongue as it bursts from his mouth spewing questions. Some are in pain they have sex on the brain It's a shame we can't lie with our neighbours But if we get caught it's a social divorce Friends believe what they read in the papers. Moralities chains are the reigns and the bane Of a god fearing world long abandoned All sin is surpassed if you just dare to ask is your freedom to chose being sanctioned Mysterious smoke clouds the mind from the thoughts That would get you strung up as a traitor If I could go back to a time without words I would be a locksmith or a painter. The walk to the coast wasn't all that I'd hoped And the beast I brought back he needs caging My burden is me and no week by the sea Will expel this desire that keeps raging Meat on the bone in Suburbian Rome Every decadent dish on the table Wine by the bucket is poured at the banquet The playwrights and drunks use a ladle. People are frocked in their Sunday best togs As the anecdotes fly like the evening I'm all for that but the juice and the fat Makes my working class mouth feel like screaming Lost in Las Vegas I spent my hiatus On poker machines sipping whisky An actress waltzed past and I knocked back my glass As the hammer of peace fell and hit me. Visions of fame are the want and the shame Of a race without virtue or conscience Let's all go back to the white and the black And forget this indoctrinate nonsense Every path leads to a garden of weed and a rocking chair high on the decking Rising above with the women you love While the dogs fight below with the chickens. Hopeless but free in the shade of a tree That had roots long before our religions Laughter and lust from the dawn till the dusk Far away from the flap of the pigeons

Copyright ©2007  Lee Cassanell

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