J. Tillman Follow

Tell me, tell me you don't mean to say
that you intend to steer this vessel
out beyond the breaking waves -
you don't expect you'll spare the lives
of those who brought you all this way?

Your ambling, rambling letters no longer surprise
I was a fool to think Joanna could escape your roving eye
and it's true, you strike me as less godlike
with no son to crucify

We'll be north of no direction
by the time we find the war
by the time we find the war

Your descent into madness was all of you we had;
it took a barrel and three dancers to coerce you back to bed,
when you'd come bursting from your quarters
with the dagger Daddy held

Our beloved tyrant - no mother and no end,
to those of us warned to prevent your doubtful tales of origin
from falling in among his story and sit, love, to do you in

We'll be north of no direction
by the time we find the war
by the time we find the war
What you need is a private army; what you need is an hourly girl

Tell me, tell me, tell me - where's the family priest?
He watched us march the old man's stern to bow before the mutiny
Should we divvy up his body now, or save him for the feast?