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The Agnostics

Poetry & Prose | November 23, 2009

The tar from
this road
clings to our souls
And by the way
you’re the greasiest saint
I’ve ever seen
What did you
douse your sins
in gasoline
You’re judging me if
you think I’m judging you
Well if we’re telling
the truth
I never had faith
in those
telephone wires
slithering anywhere
and nowhere
So you’ve tried
to escape too
I see the scars
from the rusty fields
on your shins
Stick with me
there must be
a dead end
out of here