The Sun is Racist

Moses warned me
Touch not, and the sea will rise
trust the sun and swallow your pride
He mentioned nothing of sickness,
or poverty,
or pollution,
or suffering,
or the true nature of man
who hates the sun for his cancer

When I was a child I welcomed his arrival
but now old, I wait for it to set
Neither sites proving to me the existence of God
I've been blinded by the rays
Seeking the Eye hidden in the center
"The Eye of God" they say
But, like all Bigots,
The Sun refuses to show his true color
So he blinds me in spite

Now I curse his arrival
Sleeping in the day until the ecstasy of night
when the moon soothes my wounded soul
A selfish bastard, I am
Knowing somewhere beyond the horizon
A cold young girl prays for light
as her praying fingers freeze black
and her world ascends into darkness
while blessed by the bastard sun

A worthless circle of flame,
giving me only drought and distraught
Thinking of Moses,
who thanked the Lord for it's warmth
and of the tribes who worship it

Though I am no religious man,
each night I pray for that frozen child
So the sun will lift my own suffering
and depart my coast
to greet her in the morning of the Sabbath

Gray Suits

It's only half past noon
Sunday morning
I am drunk, yet again
waiting for the morning paper
the neighbors stare my oafish grin
noticing my intoxicated glory
laughing in their gray suits
off their day jobs, to pursue bigger and better things
I shake my head in disgust
For they're no different than me
To have such riches
is to first give up all hope
knowing that you will wake up each morning
to an angry wife and ugly children
hideous like the man you've become
demanding food and rent
leaving you empty and restless
but this is the fate of man
Gray Suits and fancy cars
deprived of joy,
withdrawn from morals,
even too tired for sex

And then you will die
your money given to the people you despise the most
to be wasted on all unnecessary virtues
wasted like every last dollar spent
Hell couldn't be much worse than this
So here I still wait by the porch
Burnt out and hungry
Going home to a worthless woman
and her ugly children
who once brought such joy
but now only shame
To the man in the gray suit