it is time it found it\'s hole
this twisted ape that circles as it prays.
from alter-boy to who resembles most
the one loose flag now turning on it\'s head.
how sad the moon of chains and chandeliers
walks with sticks of white on wooden legs
to where at least the sugar greets the eyes
as I as one with venetian mask
scrumping as the orchard of a snail
looks blindly on with his fingers of a crab.
somewhere inside this eden
this deep-sea of jurassic park
to frown upon the drowning river-green.
this is no day to drown in.
the twelve signs of my zodiac
each alive with a kicking shell
of jackboots on this day our daily bread
walks the highest seas
to the green and pleasant lands obituaries
to the gallows pole
where my horse bends as it should.
it is time it found it\'s hole.
when I take off all his shoes
the world drops dead;