I want to kill monarchs
and infiltrate theocracies
and assault state capitols
and set the captives free.
I want to be the prophet enacting your high-strategy will,
The favored, faithful first general of your imperial army.
The sage philosopher turning hearts towards you,
Oh darling, let’s be kings, I’m a killer in a crown.
Let’s build monuments so great God takes notice of us,
lets hide from His sight in a tangle of silken bedsheets
and toast to our infamy with goblets beaten from stolen gold.
Let our names be feared and revered and let us taste eternity
unwary of the cost.
They say this is love but I know it’s self-immolation,
the ignition of electricity between us.
So let us adorn ourselves with smoke and flame
drip blood rubies and pile up devotees like toy soilders,
let us dance, darling, on the ash and sing
‘our kingdom come, our will be done,
in thee as it is in me.’