The Devil is Alive

The Devil is alive

The devil is alive and well in this small town. (Embers burn in his chest)
His love walks by with no sound of distress, he whistled over to catch her attention,
or maybe to lurk behind the reflection? Of lost days and nevermore
Pain and suffering to even the score
To bargain his share, to increase the insanity
washing up upon the shores of humanity
a tiny figure will emerge
sounding the horn for a mid-November dirge


Blanketing the streets in ashes,
The Devil walks home and bats her eye lashes.



Sincerely Yours,
Alfred Lynch