Because death could not be beaten
I beat death at its own game

A conversation at the top of the stairs
In the middle of the night

With a figment of the response 
To 20th century devastation

Personified as a humble pastor
Saying there’s been a lot of death going on

But what if we beat death at its own game
And that was when my brain knew

Though still addled with delusions
Of seroquel and catatonia 

That despite the fact that I was the cause
Of everyone around the world dying

God was saving every single soul
In a million tiny bubble acts of stealth

That nothing can separate us
Even a burrowing tunnel leading to the glow

Of a television snake eating its own tail
From the love that shuts our eyes in sleep

At the end of a long naked journey
That can only bring us back to where

We started in silence and ended smiling whole