Xylophone emerald beaming
It's supersonic lulls of scenery, my rockery

Rock salt for rockery of ice in my garden
When transcendence saw coincidence

Depravity in the xylophone emerald city garden
Where deck chairs are unperson
Where music isn't in space
Where colour is affected by

The person whom opens the backdoor
Oh my rockery, frozen in time
With death and other negative criteria.