The gold mines and the gutters of desire
Are not glitter and mire to choose between
They're one and the same for all awards and all the blame
So give me just the simplest denial
A Byzantine style won't guide you when
You're lost in the maze of your self-embroidered days
Beauteous flaw eludes us once more
And beaches our ships on the sand
Our right and our left were ready for theft
Willing hands, willing hands
A heart forged out of metal starts to slow
Where will you go when you die?
In corrosion we trust, air to oxide, rust to rust