Pop Crimes - Rowland S. Howard

Are you Stalin’s secret daughter?

Did you murder history?

Your twin pals, genocide and slaughter, were born on Calvary

When all the good got good and gone

And all the bad broke free

A sock-puppet government left to it’s own device

The hand that used to hold my hand has grown bored of its delights

I guess that I won’t see you tomorrow

On this, our planet of perpetual sorrows

Pop crimes

These were pop crimes

These were pop crimes

These were pop crimes

It was a pop crime

This was a pop crime

The Catholic church cannot verify that there’s a single soul in hell

It’s just a wasteland of adversity devoid of all but the sound of wedding bells

From this vast expanse of nothing

Nothing good will come of this

But the hole in the zero

And an open-heart-surgery kiss

This was a pop crime

It was a pop crime

This was a pop crime

It was a pop crime

It was a pop crime

This was a pop crime

Did you go down with the Gorgons?

Is that why you turned to stone?

Or was that state reserved for me, for me and me alone?

Does the hissing of their coiffured snakes desiccate your soul?

This was a pop crime

It was a pop crime