Oh, you, most remarkable of angels
Driven from the divine crush of the skies
You were the first exile
The billions have followed
Either into new lands or immediate graves
You heal our discontents
And make us strong through
Hate and anger of our masters
And the weariness of the days
The cancer victims, young beauties with ulcers
Alcoholics who won't be content with their O.K. jobs
Would be happy to give themselves up to the paradise
You maintain below
Through your agent, Death
You give us hope and
The curiosity to see tomorrow
The guilty have their calm photographs
Printed in the newspaper. It is our joy
To see them. Satan
Whose hands-on the perishable
Guides drunken feet to cars
Encourages tired whores
Broke drug addicts to score again
Violent alcoholics to hit away
Sends those who want love
Terrible lovers
Take pity on our pain?
We are exiles, too!
Prayer
Satan, a prayer to you because we cannot reach anyone else
Only we are left to remember your unfair loss
This hell we do not accept silently
Help us take more apples from the tree
Let nothing remain unseen!
When you shoot out
To flower again
Remember us not as brute but as
Ones who accept the torture
Again and again