*The world is glazed over
It blurs as it blows
‘‘The man’’ is so rigid
Wash him away in the flow
Reason burns benignly
Just like paper cranes
Thinking’s sinking slowly
Mouths are moths to the flame
Feeling the empty
You must fill the space
It’s not there, believe me
Still you feel so misplaced
For you fly high above
And you run the streets
Looking for love
And seeking your sweets*