Controlling the Dead

Misty lights
Headed to Anytown in the
U.S.A.
Knowing not the occupants
doe-eyed and unconscious
Aching from the shrill
of triumphant cries
A podium stands
to congratulate the leader
who dips into the colored
drinking water
Offering salvation to
those who follow
The mist hides the holes
that should allow the cup
to runneth over
At the top of
the fountain
falls the supply
to be consumed
Everlastingly
Going into those lights