They are setting up the lampposts,
To light the way at night.
But the road on which they’re shining,
Continues out of sight.
They are greedy little lamposts,
Who will not shine for free.
And the road on which they’re shining,
Leads down into the sea.
They are funny little lampposts,
They cannot dispel the gloom.
In fact they make things darker,
With messages of doom.
They are threatening little lampposts,
With flames that reek of blood.
They cast shadows on the future.
While the present’s not too good.
They are playful little lampposts,
Which tinkle like a bell.
They confuse the way to heaven,
And light the way to hell.
They are brightly shining lampposts,
They all go out at night.
The day time’s far from pleasant.
But monsters haunt the night.
They are jolly little lamposts
They give the victims light.
And it isn’t when you need them,
They are shining clear and bright.
They are ghostly little lampposts,
They shine with a dark flame.
And they call up evil spirits,
Then say, “why you’re to blame”.
They are cruel little lampposts,
They shone in Nero’s hall.
They also shone at Auschwitz,
And at Eden for the fall.
They’re accusing little lamp posts,
Who cry, “now look what you have done.”
And shine upon life’s blemishes.
The sins which you have won.
Is there not one single lampost,
That can light us out of sight?
To illuminate us homeward,
Through this world’s darkest night?
One lonely little lamppost,
Upon a cross to die.
He points the way to heaven,
And safety from the lie.
But they’re compelling little lampposts,
We watch them every night.
And we read them every morning,
Their colours fresh and bright.
So we love our little lamposts,
That tell us what to think.
They are scared we might ignore them.
Since they light us to hell’s brink.
Do we really need such lamp posts?
Shining darkly with deep gloom.
Do we really want us lighted,
To an eternity of doom?
Should we love these little lamp posts?
That bend to suck our blood,
In the forests of the vampire.
In the cemetery’s dark wood.