When I am thrown from a cliff
how will I address the spirits ?

With my limbs crashing in our wooden room ?
the primitive sectors of my mind in flames ?

When my tongue pushes sacred air I
invoke silent destruction

Every impure atom flounders
My blood will remain

Puking with ****** revelation
Giving lethal sanction to pure hearts

Creation is the mad bird that never sleeps
with its head beneath the blade

Our murderers will turn like surprised doves
but our oldest comrades will declare war