Saved By the System In Waco

The real clues are in the cobweb scraps dropped by hapless bronze birds that will never feed again The children are all there in little specks of brittle hopes in black pieces in the dirt They lie there in pools of sprinkler water collected where it lay Running down heat bleached wet white concrete walls where globes of fire all yellow and red and hissing danced in circles around and around Huddled in terror they did not know it was sent so lovingly to purify and protect from some self-appointed head of grace of the fallen state