My finger is on the trigger
The pistol shoots, in strips of white
The stem sprites like the outworn night crawls
Away from the shoal
Into the black cracks, away from the bling
I throw away things like they\'re pap
I do it all the time
I couldn\'t be anymore candid
Like the Statue of David
Seen Pythagoras of Samian
The Shahmaran
A rubberband, too deep in the art
I\'m the dust collected on a bookshelf
I haven\'t seen the sun in God knows how long
It\'s a night time illusion, a famous lie
Like the tryst with hope
Or the scythe through the grass
The Cailleach\'s running from the Zodiac
Saying, \"Abracadabra!\"
I briskly left the library in a hurry
It was like Jumanji
I forgot my vocabulary
I froze, it felt like infinity
Stirring the curry
In this Hell house, I\'ve lived and died
Like needlework or the Algebra
I\'m mirthless, a motheaten desk
Watching a punk rock band
On the Old Grey Whistle Test
Tripping the light fantastic
I can\'t wait to dream
Something epic like Dante.