The medicine you gave your daughter
had a bitter taste she couldn't swallow.
And in an effort to control her,
you lost her in the middle of the old public hospital.
The medicine you gave your late wife
put her in the ground long before she died.
And what's worse, you wrote a sermon
about how it's God's purpose that brought you to your new girlfriend.
North on Main Street,
east on Washington,
over the train tracks,
across from the factory.
There's nothing wrong with us.
We don't need fixing up.
I think it's poisonous to seek and find so much.