when sincalls stir we just flare about
and sashay on ardour to the pyre
sizzling with the prospect of kindling
embers of heaven in
conflagration
-no choice's allowed
nor cross voice's heard-
once about to sin all pieties jump off
it's a freeze out and we are all found
collectively mad at the wall we stand
all knowing awaiting to be
stoned
breathless from a blast of velvet rock
screeching violas and utter darkness
on the fiery score hopelessly biding
a last minute rally of one crasher
californian fit to scream the
fish call
like a password to get us off the
rack
and have us back on the street to trot
with a flair scoffing the mean
hooks
the sultry proxies the paradise
bought
and
sold the immolation calls
