THE UNCLEAN

I say you come at me

Like an oily cloth at dishes

As if to be unclean

Is to be obscene, seditious

So caked with love and dreams

And ambitions that you’re compelled to brutality

As the voice of The Unclean

I will sound and sound obscene

I say you smother me

Like an ugly cloak and ermine

A weighty costuming

Of your oily own ambition

That guttered blood congeal

In a crusted, unflowing, finality

As the voice of The Unclean

I will sound and sound obscene

Something comes alive

Oh, I know by twisting, turning

That I can make this different

Stoke the open fire

Throw skyward ambition’s burden

’Cause I can’t take this

Can’t take the clamp and clink

Of the metal binding brace

Can’t take the damp and stink

Or the offal of this place

Can’t take duplicity

And my condition offends the Supremacy

A condition I’ve achieved and I require

But you perceive to be unclean

Something comes alive

Oh, I know by twisting, turning

That I can make this different

Stoke the open fire

Throw skyward ambition’s burden

’Cause I can’t take this