You Two In A Big Country
Look at that dingy brick walk shine
Under it's new coat of acid rain.
But the cool wet air somehow reminds
And draws me back through my life again
To that huge mountain so out of place;
Dropped in the flat of the desert where
I ended my summer of disgrace
In the quiet forest in the pure air.
They wanted to purify my soul.
They wanted to pull me from my hole,
But I dug it, I crawled inside.
They felt I was beyond their control.
They felt theirs was just a minor role
In the play act I made of my life.
"In a big country dreams stay with you
Like a lover's voice across the mountainside . . ."
We left the desert far below
In a glass and metal hanging box.
I was "better" but inside still hoped
The floor would drop me down to the rocks.
I had two tapes with me for solace,
Two voices to keep me company.
Melodies of the rough and lawless
Guiding me invisibly through the trees.
I've kept the purity of my soul.
I prayed to the northeast celestial pole.
The harmonies still ring in my head.
My life is still a theatrical role
But inner peace is on cruise control,
In this forest who could be misled?
"All is quiet on New Year's Day"
Quoted Lyrics written by and © Stuart Adamson and Bono

Your Daughter is a Slut
"Your daughter is a slut," said the Bishops wife.
And when I decided it was time to stop playing the lost little girl
I started to peel away - peel away the layers of filth and deceit
Peel away the layers that made up the girl who said please and thank you
No matter what you would do to her she always had a smile.
A smile that could someday pick you up and throw you away for
Right then was enough to make them move along and not question.
The church sucked the mother in with the best of intentions,
It never meant any harm, you can't blame gospel for religion.
I tried to fit what my mother believed when she went into the water.
I wanted to fit the illusions built by "good" men like my father and
I didn't know it was all production put on by the self important to
Secure their place in piousness and domination in the name of all that's holy.
With each fragile layer the onion poisons the air
With each fragile layer the cake reveals another prize
With each fresh layer a new scar is revealed
With each fresh layer a new woman should be born.
But the prizes are all fetid and the core black
Like the solitude of a damned eternity
Society is a precious thing when it's closed and secure
The complacency of trust doesn't visibly obscure the eyes
And no one is to be blamed when the system breaks down, there
Will always be a weak link and we must trust the Maker to keep us
Safe from the harm of those who do not know our God but say they do.
We all knew some sheep would be lost, we all knew about slaughter.
At what point is the head count high enough that he can slip away
With the precious gifts of beauty, youth and gullibility while we pray.
I knew no man who knew my dad could ever hurt me, just like him.
And maybe I just needed to feel loved and counted or there may have been
A moment when he convinced me it was right. Those preacher men always
Could talk me out of my own skin, at least they were always trying.
"You'd never know to look at her that she could string a sentence together."
Said the bitter-breeder-freak.
These were my role models.
These were my mentors.
They taught me what was good.

When the memories come like this I can't get them down fast enough to burn them.

I want them all for myself in their entirety to look at and examine and finally turn away from once the disgust comes up the back of my throat like I've been waiting for all these years.

Do they even know that I just wanted love?
Do they know that I believed their lies?
Do they know they have this power?
I think they would be afraid if they knew, the cowards.

All of the tiny pricked baggy sacked cowards incapable of making a life for them selves and their self-righteous wives.

How was I supposed to respect these women when I know what their husbands were really doing?

When I was not fooled by their play-acting and games of moral superiority.

Okay maybe I don't look good, maybe, but my husband won't be trying to fuck twelve year old girls like your does.

Maybe I don't fit your image, but I won't turn a blind eye to my daughter's virginity lost at age three.

As a matter of fact, to ensure this, I won't have a husband.
I won't have a daughter.
Why should I waste my time creating more victims for your
weak-willed
faulty-dicked
monsters?