Closing his eyes--he is gone,
A cosmic clock provides the view--
Tears broughton by guilt and shame
Once it has your attention,
it exlpoits you--Amen!--
The TV screen cracks,
A new picture exposed
Behold the cross--source of death!
I command thee,
Living and rotting flesh...
(Small fires flicker before you)
I have evidence, bad dreams
I have many thousands
And he wakes up,
Drifting on current,
Riding the flooded wave
And lifting his head,
He sees the dense timber, another rail,
Motion on his hands
We don't go mad down here
In mystic fragments
Strangely enough, the dream comes...

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