Savage Eyes

Savage eyes behind a glacier smile;
Can't you see past my polite disdain?
Anger's on ice, but you keep chiseling away,
and your small talk's thawing my resolve.

No, I don't feel like talking about it.
I'm not about to prostitute my problems
while you look down and sample the wares
from atop your lofty moral perch,
then head home to blissfully forget me
like a Baptist preacher in a whore house.

This frozen tedium is getting old.
Stop groping for a cheap earful;
just pick up your fundamentalist soapbox
and go back to republican suburbia
before I unleash the blizzard
that hides behind my savage eyes.