St. Christopher - Venerea

Moon the river

Let the cat have the sand in the hour glass

For the bright the future’s looking bleak

As you make your bed

The three fates are weaving a rag-rug

And the fortune’s dripping on the wheel

…and you hope Opportunity knocks

But she’s got her arms cut off

Hard to hitch hike with you thumb up your asshole

Open wide your door

Take your foot from the floor

St. Christopher is grounded

Oracle

When Croesus crossed the river

Did you chuckle at your advice?

As God would laugh

At the scriptural disinformation

And the birds I flip to the empty skies

Make your stake

You sure as hell must climb it

The only flush you’ll get is in the loo

But play your hand

Though tomorrow’s a house of tarot cards

That the wind is whistling through