The Opium Den

The air was fetid, sweat and smoke

We shivered in the candlelight.

I took a hit, tried not to choke,

As we marveled at a pair of sights:

Two parasites were panting, naked,

Sucking on each other’s skin.

A hooded figure chanted, sacred,

Cast his runes again and again…

It was business as usual in The Opium Den.

A pin was dropped, but no one heard,

Hallucinations spoke too loud.

The Priest and Priest mumbled words,

Sprinkling holy water on the crowd.

A Catholic priest and politician

Asked if they could use the bed,

While the girl who married the mortician

Wept that their romance was dead…

It was business as usual in The Opium Den.

A man in black lace laced the wine

With mescaline and jaded tears,

A plastic surgeon spent the time

Making faces in the bathroom mirror.

A girl in a white dress slashed her wrists,

Fell bleeding to the kitchen floor;

The Priestess screamed, “You’ve made a mess!

We won’t invite you anymore!”

It was business as usual in The Opium Den.

We chanted arcane in the falling rain,

We threw a bone to a man on a chain.

He was eaten alive, but he didn’t complain,

So we laughed at his pain again and again…

It was business as usual in The Opium Den.