There's a ghost in the womb There's a womb in the brain A brain in the soil Dissolving in the rain Rain upon the ocean face A face on the palm of a human hand A hand that swallows empty space To nourish the time that we withstand There's time enough to save and keep To save the signs that rise in steep To mimic the pigs and mimic the sheep To marvel at the high and steep There's a distance to the end There's an end to distance's reach Reach to push to come to know How to sow and what to reap There are fruits that we have borne Gone rotting and unrecognized Recollect a memory Of sentient orbs in a sentient sky There's a sky the faithful find Space that speaks to listening time Join and sunder - sever and bind The junction of two parallel lines There is a trace that is sought to seek 10, 000 years pass in a week Lately it has become clear - The weak are strong and the strong are weak Not to say that all is reversed And not to say that all is cursed Not to disfgure and not to pervert: Praise Praise Praise