We're all little Lucifers
Disgraced and fallen
Yet somehow still bearing light
And the four-fold word
Of secrecy, blasphemy
Might quite be love
Or maybe Eden
The illusion that somehow
Eases our tragedy
And still there are those
Hell-bent on progress
As if they were aliens
(Perhaps they are)
The tower is toppling
With windows of fire
See them jump and scream
Till all that's left is rubble
And I left, eye wide open
Came back, astonished
They had rebuilt it
Stacking slander like pancakes
Atop the salamander
It somehow stays in place
And lightning doesn't strike twice
(Perhaps it does)
Well, start anew is pretty hard
When they're taxing herbs
With greeting cards
And while the sylph circles
And the nymph swims below
I can't tell whose side they're on
Where did all the warm blood go