omet streams and the rocket scenes
And cyclone-turning seas
Thy foes profanely rage
Hands washed, Pontius-Pilate-clean
In proud Euphrates' stream
Where no one knows my name
I'll be long, long gone
I'll be long, long gone
On the slopes at Courchevel
All moon-rides, lifts are full
Go search the world beneath.
Cladding breach at 3-mile beach
All spent fuel pools are full
It's all the same to me
I'll be long, long gone
I'll be long, long gone
In such fell repose, you suppose
That mouth will finally close
When you're long long gone?
I was born of a thought of mine
I was the ISIS flag design
You were a Lilac Queen
Paddling through your empire's streams
I was born of a thought of mine
Born of the stillborn heart of mine
You were the Werewolf King
Peddling round your sapphire ring
Soon is the swing of the Hammerhand
Same is the low-flying day of the Vultureman
Circling the earth I go
Slobbering out of my oatmeal wisdom:
Nearer the boots to the solid floor
Or restless thought to the waves of a foreign shore?
Racing the sun, I rose
Hastening lest thy gates be closed;
But I find... that there is time
