Devotion

So it’s back here again with myxie-mouthed me

And the News of the World and the old BBC

And the Secret Service and the KGB

And the dish-eyed young children and the artillery



Yes it’s back here again with the Sturm and the Drang

And the trees by the road where the cameras hang

And the memory failed as the soaring light sang

To people immune to its splitting bright song



And it’s back here again with a spoon in my mouth

With the fear of the sentence set by the devout

With the pledges to loved ones with interests to tout



With the fear of the abject light not going out