The epochal zenith,
an explosion of creation...

Under a pale glass moon
the bones of Christ...

Just as there are some things
that must be seen to be believed...

Yesterday is gone and so is she,
leaving apparitions in the air...

And I just can't understand
how I can smile with...

Passing through the
back alley network of secrecy...

Behind the Paradise motel,
over the cemetery fence...

Wait,
what was that...

Float down like softly falling snowflakes to
leave golden glow halo kisses upon troubled brows...

Sit in trees, eat dreams,
wear halos of gnats, spit blood through ebony...

So I sit here drinking,
quietly, silently thinking...

I had a dream
of salvation in the night...