Mark David Chapman

We pierced the side of the idol

With the sharpened neck of an electric guitar

Bottled the water from the wound

Holy relic- the essence of star

But what does she care, it's just another blank stare

To a world that loves and hates you on a dare

Where the orphans ask the widows the meaning of 'fair'

So let this be a drink to quench this uncontrollable thirst

Tie the belt a notch tighter around anxious hearts set to burst

And when this once at least gilded cage has been

Stripped bare of flesh cold and numb

What have you done, Mark David Chapman?

Let all the desperate hours of boredom

Lead you to some meaning of truth

Bumps and bruises and notebooks for heaven's jury as proof

The emotions were shrink wrapped, sold as scraps

Choose any scene from the vending machine

Somewhere lost in the night, a satellite transmitted dream

Industrial revolutions of the soul interchangeable hearts it's manufacturing

If we wear out each other it's o.k., just go buy another

So let this be a drink to calm the shaking hands that you've found

Let this be release, forever unwound.