The Warden

The warden’s eyes are beautiful
they pierce through guilty hearts
I’ll breakdown like a watchman
sleepless in the dark

The lover’s words are resentful
they preach through pulpit light
I’ll listen like a parish
clothed in Sunday white

The Quiet Man

I am a pious man
content with disbelief
I killed a prideful man
buried his body deep

I was a quiet man
content without relief
You will misunderstand
the words in which I speak