Going to Pinneberg

A mock trial
Throw fairness to the dogs
Turn it over to the angry men in mobs
A stale smile
Like everything would be okay
If you'd just wait it out a while
There are holes in my teeth
I haven't shaved in weeks
It's been at least that long since I got a good night's sleep
The sounds I make are not my own
They are affected tones in a temporary home
See my clarity
Obscure everything I see
What do they know that I don't?
Is there anything that I know that they don't?
Bound and gagged and all tied up
Or freely flying with the doves
I can faintly hear the marching drum
And can't help but tap my feet
The things I think
Are diametrically opposed
A cynic wrapped in polemic's clothes and so
It leaves me sour
So I'm ringing in the new year
By counting out the hours
Sit and celebrate
Mired in my immense distaste
What do they know that I don't?
Is there anything I know that they don't?
Bound and gagged and all tied up
Or freely flying with the doves
I can just make out the marching drum
That sacrament; our savior's blood
There has to be a joie de vivre
They put the joy of cooking in a book
But the bible doesn't speak to me
So I read
So one day I'll know what I don't