Though the attic's antics are
sporadic and unbalanced, he still chisels a fantastic ceramic tablet of
non-pragmatic mathematics,
hydro- and thermo-dynamic body mechanics— and that's not all...

In the eye of a storm, he sings his songs above a gold-drawn hexagon.
This is where I belong...

In a crystal capsule,
it's so natural
to call forth
the powers of the supernatural,
with mixed mineral
granules
to make these rhymes magical.

Behold...

From a cold throne in a stronghold of old,
an amulet in the shape of a
skull and crossbones—
he can turn a nonbeliever into stone.

...Welcome to the Terror Dome.