An account of mob justice for the "sinful".
|The sun is up with a puke and cringe;
curse the pork I had for dinner.
The show must go on for the fringe;
it's a good day to seek a sinner.
Brewing glass and ice, when I'm told:
seen he was while juicing grape.
The vile concoction's put on hold;
we hung his body like a drape.
Dice in hand and praying for seven,
I saw a card shark in a nook.
Called on duty to serve the heaven,
we drowned him in a nearby brook.
Lost in thoughts of a gendered fair
I listen as the illicit cry.
Secretly, she sees my lair,
as the righteous flames claim the sky.
I preach wisdom, shun bigotry.
Once a dervish dared to ask me.
His query scornful, yet a mystery;
we stoned him and his sweet blasphemy.
With justice served in broad daylight,
in a court that is one of a kind.
Gazing at a mirror every night,
never a sinner do I find.