I stood at the centre of all creation The elephant had left the room I can't be the same thing to them And the same thing to you Abide by the rules of the atrium For me the apple tree does lean down low Yet I smell the foul fruit of your endeavours Like a love affair Between a civilian And an army deserter We were doomed Give birth to humble renеwal For empty heads Control talking tongues Thе fate of the feather and the fate of the brick Equally weightless