Cyrus his panoptic eye his suspect light and enterprise-- defines a moral view in these galleries of Stone the sad-sack women roam and one or two he will pursue. In these cataracts of time the sheer exhaustion of these crimes is funny cos it's true. his full-spectrum appetites will not infringe their rights and who cares, frankly, if they do? History in the making somewhat bruised; completely aching as it all goes down: another day above the ground by the park, the lonely man we set the scene: the sun, the sand so very far away Beneath the pylons in the rain the ragged hordes have come again a thousand in the bay the lovesick swain who seized the day his speech that took your breath away: it was, I think, sincere. The fissure where the bone comes through The reptile house of me and you the truth of things is clear: there will be no blessing and it's all just window dressing you can ask around another day above the ground Conjour up the clowns and me all crying in the chromakey in fields of fire and air all are hostages to time: the knuckleheads, the New Sublime is neither here nor there the sins they said would find you out the wind that blows the clouds about are seldom far away those lucid dreams that hang around they're silent in the morning now and quieter in the day burning all the diaries I'm just helping with enquiries here at Lost and Found Another day above the ground