The Weile Woods

But what was I doing before I sat at this table

Because all I’m aware of is how my legs tremble

They’ve born such a terrible weight.

And all around me these voices scream and fight,

Declaring one another to be hypocrites and liars,

Meanwhile I watch the dying funeral pyre.

When they finally grow weary and quiet

I ask them where we are and what’s the point of it,

And no one is really sure.

We’ve been fed something that doesn’t fill,

Just something to chew and mask the bile,

And each night we took it for communion

It helps us forget what’s become of this Union.

I watched one man wipe his face and cross the room

He looked out the cracked window at the prevalent gloom

And declared that something must be done.

And now that we’re sober because the wine is all gone,

We finally agreed.

And suddenly I thought of this past year,

Of all I had lost

Because of a moment of weakness

One late night

And because I decided to keep

The dignity

Of owning that decision

Of carrying

The burden of freedom forever.

The bitch

Chewed the collar off her raw neck,

Ran off,

And danced with the starving wolf.

I just saw a Doctor Who reference on an Annoying Orange episode about Sherlock Holmes.  What just happened?