Quivers sent down spines, Geometric ecstacy, on the matrix of the lines, between our ions 'twixt space and time, at the corner of here, where it intersects there, where nothing is far, but not all of it's near. Tidal Ecologic, Disaster Wave, Mind pounding thoughts into a mildew covered spot, Image wrought of lies wrought of theives, wrought of nought. Or is that only what we bought? Distractions, smoke screens, Cross the line, color it red, The Children and the women. Can you hear the screams? Come from Johnny and Tim And Tom and Bob and Steve, Now murderers, true killers, a soul is what they rob, on this sandy desert eve.
