So it's come to this; all virtues a-rusting, grotesque form reforming, rain-stained walls adoring, as they swarm along their pipelines
The air's all diesel and Dal Bhat, murmurs and muttering
This places needs sheep like a hospital needs the sick; perpetual purging, but it keeps things ticking over, scrambling over so much priveleged rubble, the caustic hangover of our shame-ridden yesterdays

The key's in your clock, burnished firebox, and wound; strike while the iron is shod, hour after hour they plod
Oscillations profuse - into the clamour they sound, all tarred and feathered and set alight; Restless giants, sodden steps in the dusk, and the klaxon resounds in their charred, scattered husks
I built my scaffold about the crux of matter, imbruing red in old sand paper

"Just scrape off the sin and eat what's left, darling!" Feed the flesh
Feed the flame
Drive the swine of Gergasa into the bitter waves under the frenzied mule to scavenge; infirm, decrepit beggars

The rivers are swallowing their own tongues again, gagged with the overripe and spoiling
Their years, drawn up from the potential well, with a gurgling like melting wax cylinder; Such triviality! Such inconsequence! What are the Polybotean to God? Organic chains without pretence
Carbon murderous, soot-feathered and ripe
A dwelling for the void of vision, vapid and finger-pointing, more propagation than gestation
A sad finale, played off-key; cruel vaudeville, for sure