Why Wait For Death To Mow? Why

Think Of The Moment You Count Most Foul In Your Life; Conjure It, Supplicate, Pray To It; Your Face Is Bleak, You Retract, You Dare Not Remember It.

Passionate Grave Thought, Belief Enhanced, Ritual Returned And Magic.

Every Concrete Object Has Abstract Value, Is Timeless In The Dream Parallel.

There Must Be Real Gods See, The Painted Gods How Fair!

For You Are Abstract, Making No Mistake, Slurring No Word In The Rhythm You Make, The Poem, Writ In The Air.