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Our Beloved Tyrant
Tillman, J.
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Tell me, tell me you don't mean to say
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That you intend to steer this vessel
Out beyond the breaking waves -
You don't expect you'll spare the lives
Of those who brought you all this way?
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Your ambling, rambling letters no longer surprise
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I was a fool to think Joanna could escape your roving eye
And it's true, you strike me as less godlike
With no son to crucify
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We'll be north of no direction
By the time we find the war
By the time we find the war
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Your descent into madness was all of you we had;
It took a barrel and three dancers to coerce you back to bed,
When you'd come bursting from your quarters
With the dagger Daddy held
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Our beloved tyrant - no mother and no end,
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To those of us warned to prevent your doubtful tales of origin
From falling in among his story and sit, love, to do you in
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We'll be north of no direction
By the time we find the war
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By the time we find the war
What you need is a private army; what you need is an hourly girl
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Tell me, tell me, tell me - where's the family priest?
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He watched us march the old man's stern to bow before the mutiny
Should we divvy up his body now, or save him for the feast?
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