Did I ever tell you
I'm a Nobel Prize winner in Smarts
but everybody gots an agenda
and Albert,
you know Albert,
was
rifling through my journal,
people always doin that.
We've sold our souls for a Faustian bet on beauty
and a thirteen year old girl lies dead
as our frozen soulless ante.
Innocence is in critical condition.
I realize I am the problem
as General Nathan Bedford Forrest
still lives in stone in a park in Memphis
and four nameless girls, in their Sunday best,
lay rooted in a a cemetery in Birmingham
because I don't know their names.
