Sunday Song from Sunday Songs by Dogma and the Supernatural

As the hour of praise approaches
I’m unsettled by the sun’s unhurried crawl
because my heroes have no meaning and
I’m more afraid to falter than to fall.
Is this weariness a sickness?
Or a weapon, such as suicide or spite?
Or just the desperate disillusion
of a headless mutiny of faithless knights?
At times I’ve had no spirit left to write.

My vote is only vanity.
I’m driven mad by dreams I don’t deserve.
My emperor’s irrelevant.
I’m sick of seeking someone else to serve.
Is my apathy a privilege?
Or an aperture for someone else’s light?
Or just a rational reaction
to a market-based approach to wrong and right?
At times I’ve had no spirit left to write.

Sunday songs come in twos:
lazy, easy; gloomy, blue.
Either way’s a waste it’s true—
but there are worse things I could do.

• Alternative
• Literary Rock
• Progressive Rock
• post-grunge
• power pop
• stoner rock
• Florence