Before the altar, we pray
To gods of the forest-night
They hear us in our anguish

Remove us from televised carnage
And mass murder of dreams
In America, nothing is as it seems

We trek to the forest at nightfall
By light of neon and longing
It smells of fire-smoke and dust

This is not the America I know
Now, we have nothing to show
For passionate revolutions

Tyrants of today are on TV
And we watch in the cold forest
The screens hurt our eyes

Static images induce spasms
And limitless sensual desires
Before the altar, we pray

(Photo from Wikimedia Commons – Deep red tones with lots of texture. Abstract figurative painting. – Reneschuler)