Casting waves of pure lore
To line the yielding lips
A heart of splinters like the crown of thorn
Chasing the shade of an eclipse

Shirt drawn open, pulling smoke
Staggered to the racing strait
Tilted head as he spoke
Prose of prayer to the landscape

Pleading to follow the saints
Plunging to kneel like a ribbon to gravity
Make him in canvass and paint
Trace him in the chasm of apathy

As the horizon peaks and pales
He's dizzy with indigo fumes
Abides home by the formidable trail
And cursing the mirthless tune