the mercy seat

it all began when they took me from my home and put me on death row. a crime for which i am totally innocent

you know. i began to warm and chill

to objects and their fields

a ragged cup

a twisted mop

the face of jesus in my soup

those sinister dinner deals

the meal trolley's wicked wheels

a hooked bone rising from my food

and all things either good or ungood. and the mercy seat is waiting

and i think my head is burning

and in a way i'm yearning

to be done with all this weighing of the truth. an eye for an eye

and a tooth for a tooth

and anyway i told the truth

and i'm not afraid to die. i hear stories from the chamber

christ was born into a manger

and like some ragged stranger

he died upon the cross

might i say

it seems so fitting in its way

he was a carpenter by trade

or at least that's what i'm told

my kill-hand's tattooed e.v.i.l."