Fourth Wall

When the slipper gets thrown to the crowd have it known,
That when chinooks and choppers have scythed through and mown
Down our frivolous zest, that the one who's your best
Estimation of purity, has earthly feet, like the rest.

With a zeitgeist that's crumbling, a lustre that's tumbling
To shadow, in search of a half-light that suits,
And your skin like a sail, driven by toxic winds
Through dissenting territories whose cretins freely loot.

When he occupies you kindly with his gun,
And the stage lights dim to scarlet just for fun,
In refusal to illuminate the one.

'Don't get wasted in my shoes,
Don't come shackled to bad news,
When you know in your heart's purest cell
That this fourth wall's a window to artifice - can't you tell?'

With stray bacteria strafing below,
In the infertile, clamouring streets, did you know
That your lover's been scraping the grit from his teeth
With the tip of a whore's hard-earned stiletto.

Don't sketch blindly in my books,
Don't look kindly on those rooks,
When you know in your chewed-up pulpit,
That this fourth wall's a window to artifice.