1. 1

    Bombs Over Providence - A Vision After The Sermon: Jacob Wrestling With The Junior Boys Soccer Team

  2. 2

    Bombs Over Providence - All The Good Guys Are Dead, And I'm Twisting My Moustache

  3. 3

    Bombs Over Providence - And The Award For Best Post-Coital Hug Goes To...

  4. 4

    Bombs Over Providence - Anybody Remember John Enis, Chair Of The Board Of Tourism For Bad Sex, Ont.?

  5. 5

    Bombs Over Providence - Black Friar's Union Of Thursday Night Anarchists

  6. 6

    Bombs Over Providence - Broken Records

  7. 7

    Bombs Over Providence - Bury My Eyes At 1510 King St. W.

  8. 8

    Bombs Over Providence - Class Aptitude Test Results Are In, And It's Martyr Or Matador For Everybody!

  9. 9

    Bombs Over Providence - Cobra Constant Committee Bake Sale

  10. 10

    Bombs Over Providence - Dig Them Up And Try To Reason With Them

  11. 11

    Bombs Over Providence - I've Got Your Revolution Right Here, Wise Ass

  12. 12

    Bombs Over Providence - May Cruise Missile Diplomacy Keep Us Truthful, Good, And Mild

  13. 13

    Bombs Over Providence - Pink Slip + 1:30% Resistance To Your Daughter's New Pony

  14. 14

    Bombs Over Providence - The 18th Brumaire Of Boomer Ellsworth

  15. 15

    Bombs Over Providence - The Grand Preamble (Annie Get Your Gun, Mask, Ductape And Some Matches)

  16. 16

    Bombs Over Providence - The Starving Artist Weight-Loss Program Works... To Varying Degree... Somethetimes

  17. 17

    Bombs Over Providence - Walkerton, Workfare, And The Wusses Who Watched

  18. 18

    Bombs Over Providence - What I Destroyed On My Summer Vacation

  19. 19

    Bombs Over Providence - You're Either With Us Or You're With The Satirists

  20. 20

    Bombs Over Providence - Zombie Cheerleader Slumber Party Massacre

Bury My Eyes At 1510 King St. W.

Bombs Over Providence

Cast out with the first of winter.
Coldest night since they last raised busfare.
Seems fitting.
In this city it only ever gets this cold
after shelters close and the commons gates are locked.
There but for the grace of good odds go you, go I, go we all, but we don't.
A greater chill than the lake winds at morning:
knowing you've been heard but the city's still ignoring.
They built this.
The city would not entertain appeals to logic.
Simply locked out, they assembled, built their own walls.
Dignity here lives by alms not asked for.
But how long could it possibly last?
Now that the Pope's here gotta get the streets clear.
What better time for good old Christian charity?
Tempered by the winter weather, cold hearts don't care what month it is.
It's all the same, they've themselves to blame.
And we'll never be measured, no matter the weather,
on how we lived well while others froze.
A systematic disease, motivated by greed,
left alone when we all know there's room.
Break down City Hall, there's rooms for us all,
there's no problem till they hear it upstairs.
But what does that mean for the greatest in need?
Must they fight at every corner?
Even when they succeed in making all that they need,
"dead" property discovers its owner.
I can feel my bones getting cold already.
Steaming breath betrays our presence.
Measured in the way we care for our weakest,
God forbid we should ever lose our hold.
Could we ever lose our hold?
We've walked these streets till morning.
Winds cut through without warning.
We're strong as our greatest shame.
Speak its name, leads its way, this way home.

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