Balkanized

RIFF-it good.
 I'm standing on the platform
 And there's a pile of trash bags
 Swollen with former objects of desire
 Stripped of office, like corrupted priests
 In black plastic vestments
 And cast out to vagrancy
 So now they wait with me
 Twitching with the palsy
 Of the rats in their guts
 That shriek as the train approaches
 To take me home
 There's a negative copy of me
 In a bus station on a dusty plain
 A thousand miles away
 And one day we'll meet
 Swept up by different flags
 We'll lock eyes through gunsights
 And I wonder which one of us
 Will die beneath the other's knives
 And I hope it will be him
 It's not personal
 But I'll rip your throat out if I have to
 I'll tear your guts out if I'm asked to
 You'll rip my throat out if you have to
 You'll tear my guts out if you're asked to
 It's nothing personal
 Because we're both the same
 Lemmings rushing away from a mirror
 And towards a cliff