When the everywhere-eye
Asks you
Who is the emperor
Of the sky
Take the Archangel's Thunderbird

Go to Edgar Allen
In the tower of sleep
He'll tell you a story
Which makes you to creep
The echo of your cries
Is falling so deep

Rent a destroyer
And sail to Cape Cod
There lives a lion
They call him God
There is no elevator to Eden
But a hole in the sky

In shock-corridors
People are standing
With their eyes in their hands
But they don't understand
Why their confessional folding-chairs
Go into the narcotic flight of stairs

Baiting soldiers are sleeping
In the melting House of Wax
Why is the audience not taking
The insurrection-axe
Thousands of windows burst open
And the alarm bells are broken