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

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

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

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

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

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

Wooden boxes
in the land of foxes...

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