The Ballad of Nate Phelps
You wanna trod upon it like it’s only a stone in your path.
You can’t control it, but it’s only a hole in the math.
You’re inconsolable and wholly alone in your wrath:
I’m told it’s a laugh!
I’m flying high, I’m gonna take what you gave me and say
my goodbyes when I make my escape in a day.
You try to hide the fact that faith is a game that you play.
The aim is to say
how much more righteous you can be than the plebians.
We’d begin by setting up our signs on the median.
You’d be castigating anyone who had a different opinion,
and meanwhile, we, your minions,
inwardly reliving every beating immediately succeeding the teeniest disobedience
and secretly pleading for lenience,
our demeanors in appearance like furious demons
(but really merely in adherence to your meaningless theories):
we’d scream along in allegiance.
I dreamt I was a soul facing down your picket line,
standing unbowed as if held upright by a second spine.
And I saw your mouth move, but the words were misaligned,
Just sending me peace of mind.