There is an ashtray

At the corner

Of Highland and North

The discarded remnants

Maybe this is all

The filters are for

To fly from the fingers

Of jaded drivers

And sail out their doors

Perhaps I can bag them

And sell them back to

Convenience stores

Just wrap us up in your arms

When all this world die, oh, we live

We'll synchronize our alarms

So everything is cohesive

There is a creature

Sneaking a peek at

My garbage at night

He pushes over all

Of the barrels

To see what's inside

Perhaps one day I'll catch him

In the act and

He will be surprised

He'll ask me to retreat

Back into my house and bid him goodnight

Steeples are raised very high

When will my (?)

I symbolize love crucified

Reminds me of all that he chose to bear

There is a tailor

In my town who I sometimes see

I ask him to help me

Nothing fits right

Oh, what does this mean?

He stretches my arms out

Measures my chest

And smiles graciously

Oh, out with it tailor

Is it my garments?

Or is it just me?

I am the wheat (?) of my lord

I will be ground by the teeth of beasts

Into flour, oh, lord

Baked into bread for my love to eat