danepstein

Through the light and the clouds, above in the sky I can see them moving around, Calling for those poor tortured souls Asking them to come forth and admit. Those winged accusers hold swords of flame They see the minimal billboards and laugh, For Doctor Atkins is dead. How long since his soul has found its way home There is no way to tell. The winged accusers still cry for their prey For the weak, for the strong, For the sick, for the fed, To account for all they have done. The cost of flesh, it steadily ascends Like tulips in spring or birds in their swing; But, alas, Doctor Atkins is dead. Ahoy, in the sky; look up to the win

Through the light and the clouds, above in the sky I can see them moving around, Calling for those poor tortured souls Asking them to come forth and admit. Those winged accusers hold swords of flame They see the minimal billboards and laugh, For Doctor Atkins is dead. How long since his soul has found its way home There is no way to tell. The winged accusers still cry for their prey For the weak, for the strong, For the sick, for the fed, To account for all they have done. The cost of flesh, it steadily ascends Like tulips in spring or birds in their swing; But, alas, Doctor Atkins is dead. Ahoy, in the sky; look up to the win