can you name a single soul
who isn't spilling stuffing from her gaping seams

we're all stitched up with ragged zip zag scars
like monsters
limbs hanging limply

they keep sending boys
they keep sending boys
they keep sending boys home in boxes
draped with the flag

is there no balm in gilead
is there no doctor there
is there no balm in gilead

every zombie that sleepwalks around this town
wears a bright painted-on smile
we're all dancing with our bandages
but there's such a moaning
and there's so much ache
and we would gladly pay on a sliding scale
please
heal something