In Through the Out Door

How vocal are the dead souls

In the minds of those looking back!

They set flames to the windowsills

Through which they peer

While day gives out

And cedes its light

To the cold, dark night

Still...

Still as the specters

Unmoved by vanishing vision.

...

How silent the living

Who despite their incessant chattering

Incessant bumbling

Move about symbol-less

Draw no conclusions

But (noun),

and (ad_) (verb)

...

How evil,

How vile the language!

How prone to illusory function!

A disintegrating bridge,

A raft of sponge.

We go in through the out door,

We who learned not to speak.

We go in through the out door,

And climb back over turnstiles.

Hammer

Every time the hammer strikes the thumbs flinch

And all these forces inside my brain

Are telling me to build a thousand houses, a thousand for you

But oh the fear that they should all fall around you

Oh the fear that they should all collapse

And kill a thousand men

Hands won't cannot do this

Clumsy broken all of this

To take a step Oh the fear

Oh the fear

These sands of mine are running down the sound is all I hear

Echoes from ahead are beating in my brain

And through my feet I feel the ground pulling me, pulling me

Down and All I see are holes in the ground

Down and all I see are stones with names

*

There's a trap between the thought and act, ropes around my feet

Vicegrip on my eyes that see but one thing

Image in a mirror, aged a thousand years

Oh the eyes returned are empty dead and dull

Oh puzzles like a fool with an empty skull

Hands are frail and hold a scarf

Clumsy, broken, all of this

To take a step Oh the years

Oh the years...