The Crumbling of Troy

She’s looking for a wall of sound to lean against until
A shining knight with bloodshot eyes appeared up on the hill
To carry her away with him where she will not be bored
By sober politicians and musicians’ passing chords

A cloud of smokey platitudes applaud without much zeal
Half-hearted train wreck endings that have nothing to reveal
Emotionless and out of key for drunkards to enjoy
Without a shout or witness goes the crumbling of Troy.

Annointed now by alcohol the part of Queen to play
Watching while her servants put their weapons all away
An entourage now staggers up in search of one more beer
The shout goes out “So don’t go home! But you cannot stay here.”

The Queen now leads her patrons with her Jester by her side
With serious contempt for him, she scornfully derides
“You said you’re from Chicago, but your plates read Illinois”
Such obtuse observations hail the crumbling of Troy

Awakening beyond the goodness of the breaking dawn
The room is strewn with soldiers dead and passed out hangers on
And stumbling there amongst the corpses on the Queen’s crusade
The knight with bloodshot eyes now seeks to get some coffee made

So slow, so slow the rising of the Queen’s dull silhouette
Now dressed in her terricloth robe with scepter cigarette
Hungover praise does greet her now and this she does enjoy
And with the smell of breakfast goes the crumbling of Troy

On his back out in the yard both sullen and withdrawn
The Knight with bloodshot eyes wonders just where his life has gone
Between the drunken screaming nights and cold hungover days
Ringing ears that barely hear the strangers useless praise

Now from the house laughter erupts and hangs there in the air
And falls quite suddenly upon the the knight still lying there
The Queen she calls, the well is dry, she needs her errand boy
To rally troops and usher in the crumbling of Troy

Now in the lonesome twilight hours of love’s final charade
The Queen looks for another knight to help lead her parade
One’s just like another and her court will carry on
Not noticing at all the Knight with bloodshot eyes is gone

The desert sun is rising and the prairie is in bloom
And cigarette stained fetid air’s replaced by the perfume
Of revolution’s aftermath, a sweet scent to enjoy
With labor’s love, new bricks are laid, toward rebuilding Troy.