Two kin talkin’ Tolkien in the kitchen when I walked in They’re good kids always growing upwards So let it sink in or you will sink I’m Elijah on ascent; no blood in me innocent A dada Derrida on C9 with comp B It’s the peasants who poison the Leviathan in its sleep But I’m no St. George and my sword’s out of reach So I’ll leave I’ll take the beachhead down To Watership Down: through the Garden, over Walden to find the Down. Low hum melody of summer cicada-painted wall murals on section 8 housing to sing the residents to sleep I traded gun shots for bird songs and protests for quiet calm Lawsuits for patience and dead cops for silence I come back to my hope running home Dressed in black garb, blue eyes turned my way and I stop ‘cause I know what they say: “Come see the body. It’s embalmed and ready.” I hold no misconceptions on the road that winds before me for I can tell the difference in the gait of step beside me of all the misanthropic antiquated morons on a mission It’s a d**h march of zombie walking people taking tours of motion and back home, my cold darkosis nervosa Why hold your quarter upward as if you seek forgiveness When you twist your wicked fingers ‘round in desperate irreverence So I’ll leave I’ll take the beachhead down To Watership Down: through the Garden, over Walden to find the Down.