The Three Weeks Ahead

>
> I'm banged up, swollen head
> Lips are cracked, colored red.
> Bruised left eye, dismantled
> These are the weeks, everything is channeled.
>
> Nothing goes unnoticed, no stone left unturned
> Under the magnifying glass, of the ozone burn
> There is no escape, no hiding in the fort
> No cannon you can cock, no story to contort.
> These are the weeks, when the truth is revealed
> When people go mad, because've lies they've concealed.
>
> What do you do, what do I do?
> Is there a chance there's a moment, I can run to the loo?
> Just a simple reprieve, maybe even SPF?
> Perhaps a moment, I can reason with the reff?
>
> You'll see, we'll see
> When its all over, then
> When people are agonizing in their burn,
> Or reveling in their tan.
>
> It's the sun, the moon
> Nothing IN-BETWEEN
> It's hot it's cold,
> It's soft, its mean.
>
> What you can do is pray,
> That our temple won't be sold for treason
> That this time we stay away,
> From hatred for no reason.