Listen, choirs sing sublime, I can’t, I couldn’t, I haven’t the time.
For witches brew their strident steeds upon my innocent, wicked deeds.
Today, the winds, they call my name, rope and tether, still untamed.
But since you’re here, lend a hand, give up your liquid, lightning stand.
For you can’t say, nor I, nor they, what rises up beneath the day.
Darkness, demons, angels bright, a stage, the backdoor painted white.
The key you found fits every lock, cut loose the ribbons and the rocks.
Fly through nothing, touch the tree, remember you, remember me.
Listen
