Spy Wednesday Blues

One dip into my deep and churning urn of perfidy,
and I'd come up with several friends and lovers to betray -
but I don't have the hour for that sour symphony,
or the rituals of treachery that mark this special day.

It seems that I can't get my mind to labor, or to rest -
It seems there are no vacancies, and quite a while to wait.
It seems I'm aging out of being at my very best:
It seems I'll have to fight to keep this job I've grown to hate.

Today is set aside for a peculiar meditation.
Today's a day it's best to stay away from clarity:
Between the quisling and the quitter, who's more fit for condemnation?
Can selling out and giving up be forms of charity?

It seems that I can't get my mind to labor, or to rest -
It seems there are no vacancies, and quite a while to wait.
It seems I'm aging out of being at my very best:
It seems I'll have to fight to keep this job I've grown to hate.

I dream about Judecca every day for forty nights -
The Fallen One is weeping sheets of ice, and breaking wind.
He never seems to see me, which is why I can't decide
if I am passing through, or there for keeps, as Judas is.

It seems that I can't get my mind to labor, or to rest -
It seems there are no vacancies, and quite a while to wait.
It seems I'm aging out of being at my very best:
It seems I'll have to fight to keep this job I've grown to hate.