Our skeletons stand in the road at night

and the headlights pass right through them                 The God of headlights paves away

 

Our skeletons pray to God on their knees

with their bony fingers together                                        his fingers covered in pie

 

Our skeletons have reached the summit of Mt. Shasta

Their feet are not snowshoes or crampons                    His feet are all we see

 

Our skeletons vibrate quietly at 60 Hertz

The manufactory is upon them all the time                    time manufactures his enclosures

 

Our skeletons roll around in the hot sands of Mars

we sent them there in metal enclosures                          and there we will live

 

Our skeletons are wet all the time

We are unaware                                                                    though unaware