While you were sleeping, the National Guard took your baby away.
No, I'm not one for children; this might not be a special case.
No, I'm not one for much of nothing
I'm not nothing for much of anything
If you were fused into my DNA, there would be your proof
God, if you listened, you would have walked the hallways of my veins
Taken that ill-begotten disease away
Touched my cortex and sent me comfort
Touched my prints and sent me peace
It would be so much easier
Succubus, take this down -
If there were something to be seen
It would be something I'd already found
While you were sleeping, your Golden Boy slept somewhere old.
Hanging in the space between your ringtones
Huddling in the eaves under your fingernails
No, I'm not one for empathy
No, I'm not one for believing
I'm not one for not much of nothing at all:
Writing some obscene love story
In which Zeus and God and Moses and you danced
And I watched, and it was enough
It would be so much harder
Incubus, scratch this out -
If there were something to be lost
It would be something that shouldn't be found
You promised that there was a heaven
Some door-to-door savior raised my hand
Said, "Teacher, I don't believe in Hell
I don't believe in no Promised Land"
You grabbed my pores and kissed me deep
Buffing out the dents from a hard landing
Promised me an Armageddon; some sort of ending
Some sort of God, but I don't see anything
It would be so much better
Athena, scratch this out
If there were a God to believe in
It would be someone who could be found
You should have been there in the beginning
Not this semi-permanent ending.