red and yellow through this dirty window pane   disturbing your sediments of classic form and thought   wrapped in purposeless veneers of worthless words   and countless years of thievery and hopes of blacker days      but we don't like this not quite one bit   no we don't, no sir   we just won't speak more softly   safely wanting what we're told to save and hope for      sleep, sweet sleep   please define our lives for us   so we can can sleep   so we can trust that they are righteous   because after all we are the promised land   we own the promised land