Superman's Dead
Come all you intermittent princes,
Who are noble when it serves your needs,
You glutton kings and drama queens,
There is more on Earth than mouths to feed...
A hero dies-- some tears are shed,
Some drops are poured, some kind words said,
And fickle notions cloud your heads
As you suck on your communion bread.
And the hero's lesson wanders-- lost.
It cannot reach the minds of slaves...
If freedom comes at such a cost,
If life's a subtle holocaust
Whose truest lesson lies embossed
On the hero's crumbling grave;
If power yields to roguish knaves,
And reason to emotion,
If Jesus dooms and Satan saves,
And hope is lost in tossing waves
And buried in man's ocean;
If greed and pride get one ahead,
If saintly notions go unsaid,
And the hero's lesson remains unread;
If the good are sad and frustrated,
And by their meekness inflicted,
While the bold reign proudly in their stead,
And justice, hence, is mutated...
I still will stand, with lowered head,
In god's company, infatuated,
Though on a sea of molten lead,
I will not feel the coward's dread,
Because a hero speaks inside my head,
And on occasion, I will listen.
