Blind Mice

The wretched
we cower and file inside
with fettered step, puppy eyes.
The ritual awaits
our heartbeat in pace.
The jigsaw seeks more.
The blackness calls.
Hands held open we march to within
a line of gaunt faces moving in time.
A paradox of sin.
The hatchet calls us in.
I walk through the mire
I walk through the sin
I walk from the blind eyes
of mice that once were men.
The jigsaw calls us in.
The jigsaw always wins.
Eradicate this sin! … Again
Ancient man at the side of the road
«I died a very long time ago».
He spoke with tears in withered eyes
I looked at his face
and it was mine.
I walk through the mire
I walk through the sin
I walk from the blind eyes
of mice that once were men.
The jigsaw calls us in.
The jigsaw always wins.
Eradicate this sin! … Again
Oh god, what comes now?
How about heaven.
How about hell.
Oh god, what comes now?
How about heaven.
How about hell.
Oh god, what comes now?
How about heaven
How about hell