by Sycamore Smith

The gravedigger digs another slot in the plot
The brakeman is blowing off steam in his cot
Listen to the kid on the corner selling papers,
Yelling, "Elegant crook snaps cuff links up in caper!"
Please, we don't want release
We've been resting in peace
Since the day we were born
There, in the Devil's red glare,
The white flag flies away
All tattered and torn
Grandma is hammering a nail into Grandpa
Violet's baking file cakes to send to the slammer
The band in the basement is beginning to roar
Dracula is wasted, racing leeches across the floor
The soldiers are asleep, tucked away in their tents
The general is drunk, he's not making any sense
The enemy is packing and tomorrow he'll be gone
God watches over it all...and yawns