Minuet for Army Boots and Orchestra

Whose tongues are twisted and whose hearts are shrunk

may play as puppets, may in that disguise

while towns burn in their brains, drink to be drunk.

So when God comes to catch this crumbling chunk

of dirt, what do we say? That we despise

whose tongues are twisted and whose hearts are shrunk?

If Thomas had told us the gnawed body stunk,

what would it change? Men knowing what men devise

while towns burn in their brains, drink to be drunk.

If Calvin came to tell us Christ is bunk,

what could he hope to teach us? Pain? Surprise?

Whose tongues are twisted and whose hearts are shrunk?

So the viking sails for home and is sunk,

so Napoleon is poisoned, so Lorca dies,

while towns burn in their brains. Drink to be drunk

until they lay us to sleep and slam the trunk,

two people more who open and close their eyes,

whose tongues are twisted and whose hearts are shrunk,

while towns burn in their brains. Drink to be drunk.