And so we sleep
Too late for careers, too soon for caresses
The scorn of the church on our nakedness presses
And so we sleep
Feet as the brushes, dirt, dirt over dust,
Rotting like mould round the seams of our lust
And so we sleep
Pale as the moon we digest; kings with garnish,
Ink dried on fingers as scars set and varnished
And so we sleep
Tied by the silk of our flag, like a sheet,
torn from thighs upwards as our countrymen weep
Blood through the wire of the canopy seeps
Dead as we breath, as we walk, as we eat
And so we sleep.