Pentecost on the seven line

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Egoless in America
The vice-filled monkeys chase their bread
and I, the water bearing priestess
sit in the back of the bus
watching homeless sages argue with invisible foes
A fire jumps from head to head
the pentecost is everywhere
inside the public transportation system
Paul of Tarsus as a teen
wishes for the eschaton
His face tattoos
say hope is drugs
and all you need is love
but we know that’s just not true
You also need a bus pass
and some glue
to put together broken people
when they lose

The bus, it goes and goes till dark
I sit alone inside my ark
Come hell or heaven I’ll be fine
the priestess of the seven line

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