If you don't fit this world; if you despise its lies.
Craft boldly a new one with your own hands.

Stretch out your arms to weave new skies.
Braid her bright starry bands as you require.

Grab realities strings and pull them wide.
Direct the heaven's choir.

Sand and soil slip from your fingers with pride.
You speak "let there be" and manifest is your desire.

Lay hold that ancient serpent's hide.
Take up that ancient fire.

Then you Creation's Queen must decide
whose values are higher.

Anu and Apsu do not hide
for you've torn down their pyre.

Mark a new salt, sweet divide.
Build a land where foul things do not transpire.

Cut out the heart where this world's greed abides.
In your molding and making leave out the priests and bankers and all those who do conspire.

Be thou my Apocalypse and I'll rise from the dead.
Abolish now the hateful voices in my head.

Could you make a world where love is pure and free?
Fill it up with hurting souls such as you and me?

Oh, if my words were comets I could hurl them into the sea
and from my sweet apocalypse a bright new world would be.