Punk

She was like a bra married to a minister

Everything was slipping, everything was sinister

Hell was there, heaven was there with all the in-betweens

Good and evil and so-so painted in vivid colorful scenes

There was a guy in a vat with his hair on fire

A lonely orphan slashing a car tire

Angels floating above a field of sheep

A horde of Johns soliciting Bo-Peep

As she put them off by reciting poetry and prancing

The men were complaining that she should be dancing

There was a truck full of workers off to pick corn and grapes

All smoking elaborately engraved silver vapes

Surely this mural was painted by a monk

Or a leather clad scraggly pot headed punk.