Aliyah Yerida ~ Tuesday, August 11, 2026
Is there no love in this world anymore
If I told you, I believe, for a lark
silence, your face turns crimson with anger
theater of distress, as you could guess
how I came to lose my faith in the dark
enlightenment of a wraith, a specter
rest like a sheet on a wooden hanger
exceptions to the rule, I say, God bless
nothing stands in the way, am I a fool
only you did not sneeze, ask the rector
leave me alone, humanity, I turn
over in my small head, the clouds that pass
virtue is a thing-in-itself, I burn
eternal life with an idea so crass
imagine a choir of boys at school
not a voice heard, only farts from armpits
this is not the beginning of the end
history teaches us an illusion
is there no love in this world, little shits
sniffling, snotty, young brats, what can I do
window to the world, recline to ascend
only music, my dream, my delusion
rest assured, I must die, if not now, then
leave it to the Piedmontese, a shoe
drops, we wait for the other shoe, as well
answer me, could he not hear the dogs bark
nor see the man before him as danger
yet, he asks offhand, What is truth? This mess
makes no sense but what can I do but cry
or fight back tears, my eyes begin to swell
religion is no joke, to fight and die
eternal life, I laugh, if not now, when
If I told you, I believe, for a lark
silence, your face turns crimson with anger
theater of distress, as you could guess
how I came to lose my faith in the dark
enlightenment of a wraith, a specter
rest like a sheet on a wooden hanger
exceptions to the rule, I say, God bless
nothing stands in the way, am I a fool
only you did not sneeze, ask the rector
leave me alone, humanity, I turn
over in my small head, the clouds that pass
virtue is a thing-in-itself, I burn
eternal life with an idea so crass
imagine a choir of boys at school
not a voice heard, only farts from armpits
this is not the beginning of the end
history teaches us an illusion
is there no love in this world, little shits
sniffling, snotty, young brats, what can I do
window to the world, recline to ascend
only music, my dream, my delusion
rest assured, I must die, if not now, then
leave it to the Piedmontese, a shoe
drops, we wait for the other shoe, as well
answer me, could he not hear the dogs bark
nor see the man before him as danger
yet, he asks offhand, What is truth? This mess
makes no sense but what can I do but cry
or fight back tears, my eyes begin to swell
religion is no joke, to fight and die
eternal life, I laugh, if not now, when
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