I can feel the mystery
But I can't play it
Grey as the children are grey
My thoughts are grim, polluted as I am
Walking out one summer noon
So soon
How will the weather bring
Sing like the children have sung
High as the stars are hung
I vanish before I go
I have written with a rope
Wrapped around my throat
Loomed like an island
Dope hooked and cycloned
Honey combed my heart in love
And from above
Every cemetery
Against the bloom
Rattle the pigs, visit the silence
Waking up an open wound
I can feel the mystery
But I can't play it
Grey as the children are grey
My thoughts are dim, polluted as I am
Walking out one summer noon