underneath false oceans devils despise saxophones 

carpenters rejoice with trumpets

instinct and appetite have grown

collective darkness derailed

the hundred curtains of thinking

no ray or prayer gleems through the murky air

with the red hue left blinking

steam locomotive round the bend

was smashed decadence

and the skulls of the young are stabbed with blades

observed by the indolent

and i watch and i wait for the day

for all this to end

there is no reason why it should

heaven is a place in hell

same damn stry to tell

riding that trail

doing fine doing well

souls for sale