Our graves undulate with fever.
Quietuses poring over a founders park,
whilst we stood on our digits by the bank.
The indignant ghosts in a stargazer´s home,
Where the fireside´s alway cold.
The man strode down the ancient corridors,
and the big gray shade against the sky
is now the dank haze atop of the town...
and not just there, but it was a universal spot upon the pole,
--it was everywhere.
And the giant nuance, where the sunflowers grow,
the hills we built, they are dead, --they are bold.
We, the moony buildings, need our rod to stand.
You, the lily-livered heavens, where´s our blossomy land?
The last sleep out for the cot to sag,
the moist ground shouting for a corolla and bed;
the saviors hand in an arid wire spiderweb.
The aglow flaw parking around our naked necks,
and through the yellow jamb we keep our eyes;
"Oh, the dying light! We are blind! We are blind!"
The latent sooth hidden under our impotent roots,
we dread the aroma of you; oily written rune of a dead lune.
--The blundering driver of our locomotive.
(... And the last dusty trail to hide we seek.)
whilst we stood on our digits by the bank.
The indignant ghosts in a stargazer´s home,
Where the fireside´s alway cold.
The man strode down the ancient corridors,
and the big gray shade against the sky
is now the dank haze atop of the town...
and not just there, but it was a universal spot upon the pole,
--it was everywhere.
And the giant nuance, where the sunflowers grow,
the hills we built, they are dead, --they are bold.
We, the moony buildings, need our rod to stand.
You, the lily-livered heavens, where´s our blossomy land?
The last sleep out for the cot to sag,
the moist ground shouting for a corolla and bed;
the saviors hand in an arid wire spiderweb.
The aglow flaw parking around our naked necks,
and through the yellow jamb we keep our eyes;
"Oh, the dying light! We are blind! We are blind!"
The latent sooth hidden under our impotent roots,
we dread the aroma of you; oily written rune of a dead lune.
--The blundering driver of our locomotive.
(... And the last dusty trail to hide we seek.)