is it awfully wrong that
he only confesses
when the sky is falling
and the storm swallows
up the river in
this town?

when the clouds are
threatening to break -
and the honor of his sins
is at stake -
but a secure salvation is all
that i will take.

the smell is of life that's burning,
of firemen cursing the Lord's name
in vain.
the sky is melting, dripping wax
onto the charred sea
and frothing whirlpools
snarl and bring us
below, together.

wind is rushing through
caves, pushing flames farther
apart and i hear
his whispering admission
the whistling partition
of the world
healing
(or stealing?)
my singed ears.

the hurricane screams at me with ire
and he pleads for my pardon
and we are lit with a shivering desire.
this is what happens when
the heavens are on fire.

this is what happens when
you want all that you can't digest -
this is about the french we learned
and the costumes we burned -
this is about the time we took
to open our mouths and sing.
this is about wiping the fog
off the glass and about
saving the world.