Catherine Two

Is it peace or fame, a bird on the wire, that you rage against, shuffling out of the gloom, chanting to the wind, no one cries like you, many come this way, they pester you for hire, ask and ask again, tell them what to do, your face mired, visage forever blue, an offering to the freeway, a burnt-out tyre, this is all you give, always someone's dude, their wretched desire, little else of virtue, the miracle they crave, is not within your choir whoever that you save, plays with fire.