Once upon a fairy tale a flimsy man wore lavendar and lace.
Soon the lie was gospel. If this gospel saves, it's only saving face.
Now the crop you once mistook for pansies are all wilted, nearly flat,
as the earth erodes for want for water, and you say, "I'll drink to that."

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Oh, it's kill or cure. That's how you get the odd man out.
You're pretty sure you've never met the odd man out,
but dear, there's one right here.
Won't someone let the odd man out?

Now the brother you would make a stranger knocks, but answer comes there none,
as you swear the table set for many has just room enough for one.
And there's even talk that God is going to take sides in this debate,
as he spurns his handiwork and says, "Oh Christ, what thing did I create?"

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Of two born equal in their soul, one's a fraction, one is whole,
or that's how we're taught to see.
What hurts the most is what's unseen, this transparent quarantine,
and we still just let it be.

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