Comet streams and the rocket scenes and cyclone-turning seas
Thy foes profanely rage
Hands washed, Pontius-Pilate-clean in proud Euphrates' stream
Where no one knows my name
I'll be long, long gone
Tolling bells through Courchevel, all moon-rides, lifts are full
Cladding breach at 3-mile beach, all spent fuel pools are full
It's all the same to me
I'll be long, long gone
I'll be long, long gone
In such fell repose, you suppose
That mouth will finally close
When you're long long gone?
Percussion, then key change!
I was born of a thought of mine
I was the ISIS flag design
You were a Lilac Queen
Paddling through your empire's streams
I was born of a thought of mine
Born of the stillborn heart of mine
You were the Werewolf King
Peddling round your sapphire ring
Soon is the swing of the Hammerhand
Same is the low-flying day of the Vultureman
Circling the earth I go
Nearer the boots to the stolid floor
Or restless thought to the waves of a foreign shore?
Racing the sun, I rose
Hastening lest thy gates be closed;
But I, but I find, but I find
But I find, dadadadada, dadadadada, dadadadada
that there is time