From the recording Splendour + Misery
Summers grieve and dream, shooting me full of sings.
I live in a world of Fall, a yellow catastrophe.
He weighs a crystal ball, a finish for us all.
Between the world he's lain, Hell is an empty plain.
And with a book in either hand, playing god playing man,
Looking for women with lips of silk.
Just a mile from Avalon, and owing to chiefly shame.
We paper the walls with our skin, freedom splendour brings.
Crisisless, ruin-prone, this pinkie without a hand.
Ancient fires for windswept eyes, our immemorial moan.
The heart is stiff, the smile grows old,
Wherefrom she flies tonight?
A handful of quiet, lightning fell silent,
It's midnight at seven in calico.