Tweet
My old books were engraved
With contorted bodies
Sprawling in aesthetic agonies
Naked wretches, curling flames
The eager poking of a devil
With a vintage toasting fork
How quaint - and how inaccurate
Hell is a city, but not Pandemonium
Satan does not plot against Heaven here
He just practises his backhand
This place has no tragic grandeur
Just demons repeating
The evils of the world
It's an LA of burning cars
And petty jealousies
Business continues for me
Suits, meetings, minor power struggles
Bad biscuits that I cannot eat
And irritating acronyms
I help Angel when I can
But I find myself indifferent
A tin man in a twilight Oz
With a metallic taste
In what was my mouth
And all I can bring myself to do
Is the ghost of duty
An echo of the fight.
With contorted bodies
Sprawling in aesthetic agonies
Naked wretches, curling flames
The eager poking of a devil
With a vintage toasting fork
How quaint - and how inaccurate
Hell is a city, but not Pandemonium
Satan does not plot against Heaven here
He just practises his backhand
This place has no tragic grandeur
Just demons repeating
The evils of the world
It's an LA of burning cars
And petty jealousies
Business continues for me
Suits, meetings, minor power struggles
Bad biscuits that I cannot eat
And irritating acronyms
I help Angel when I can
But I find myself indifferent
A tin man in a twilight Oz
With a metallic taste
In what was my mouth
And all I can bring myself to do
Is the ghost of duty
An echo of the fight.
