Do not go quietly my son,
The night has pity on only one.
The misty rain as it fell,
Burst with fire upon the well
Seeking prodigal son.
Out of ash and pure mistaken hope,
The junkie slings the endless rope.
Come with me now and save the sun,
Jesus can’t sell t-shirts without his whiskey and rum.
The venom of the politician’s spear
Lifts the death right from behind the curtain, and clear
Across a grey dusty haven.
Be till oh silent night,
Allah has no place in my bed tonight.
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