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Some angels pinned my head to the ground
And said "Repent or we'll kill you"
There was no one else around
The desolated milieu
I thought that angels would take me for a spin
Around the heavenly arcade
I wanted angels to open my window
And call me a witness to all we have made
"Hey where're your harps?" I feebly cried
"This isn't how the plan goes"
"We don't gotta" they replied
"Show you no stinking banjos"
They kicked my ass and stole my keys
And left me for the vultures
Then I was swarmed upon by bees
I wonder for a moment
Whether anything is real
Like my ramshackle memory
Is it some postmodern kind of deal?
How many danced upon my crown
Is no medieval matter
I count them bounding up and down
The incandescent ladder