Rapture
Russ Rankin
What's left to find with tolerance so distant
It's a better mind sublime and inconsistent
It's a rapture from inside
You can hear the open spaces
Like a social suicide
Tears the evidence of life's decay
Gone wrong again so up in arms and in distress
Imperfect sins without a vessel to confess
Penitence the fertile ground we've left to spoil
Obstinance destroy the crown for which we toil