The lost highway south

 South town jews as armagaeddon ensues
Just a stone´s throw from the bridge
Almost like outcasts not quite in
Not quite part, yet better off

Their secrets never known
their own influence deep and lasting
Ignored by the many
And blamed for more than most

Somewhere on the other side of fire hill
Well hidden in the woods was their synogogue
their eyes are open, as ours are shut with gossip and comfort
They could see the broad body of the apocalypse

While the village fussed with their hobbies and bias
special shopping experiences, proud working class agreed poverty
Small minds and boutique sweet nothings, extras for soap operas
Unemployed gossip tea sippers, crumbs for saucers

As the end of the world ensues