Numbed by praise and
Waddling with comfort
Coddled gods who suck each others thumbs
Cryptic anger falling like Greek lightning
Elects the silence that invents the hun
And everybody knows what's coming
Boredom chips away the jaded chorus
Candidate conquistadores bet down
Lacking wood, their hopeful hurling fails them
They'd better put away the songbook now
Here comes the hun
Running something ugly up the mast
Stand at the measled mirror
Measuring your terror in the glass
And we're free to start again