Embody no fantasy Nevertheless there is unrest in the streets There's weight in accord But if the bomb is at our feet its too late My heart's pestle lingers So much to vie for. so much to die for There's poison in the water There's land being claimed There's miasma in the breeze, and my skin scalds Now its at every turn The needles stuck on scared, and keeps cutting back to fright With no blood tarrying in my veins, I'm echoing the same shock Will there be a choir singing at the spire? Will there be a hand straining down to wrench me out? Is there help bound? Too rigid to want it, mother, I need it