Morning bright, rise.
Go over your lines.
Iron your carefully crafted disguise.
We'd all like to sing.
It's easy to sigh; to sprinkle a handful or plausible lies.
Our buildings will rise, poke out our own eyes.
Publicly smile and privately frown.
A weeping reprise.
Please hear my cries; I'd like to pull just this one building down.
So turn off the sky.
Head in my hands.
Night keep me warm.
Blinded by heart.
Cut my hair short.
"Eyeless in Gaza with the slaves at the mill."