Head up, dears, the art is finding
art for art's sake 'mid the binding...

Baggy soul with old tired eyes
miles of clouds, miles of skies...

Dreamt of white rainbows, flickering desire, in...
After midnight, hushing, the black skies above...

Rulers of the nations, man your battle stations...
Now here is your story, come claim your newfound...

When I was young there would be fields -
the sort the kind that springtime yields...

I parted the wind, concocted the phrase
bore the cold, fettered the days...

I feel, so, so very light today
I wanna stretch my wings and fly away...

Wooden boxes
in the land of foxes...