The old man said
The introversion of war
Is the main task of our time
Now it makes its poem, when the sky stops killing
I try to turn my acts inward and deeper
Almost a poem
If it splash outside
All right
My teacher says
Go deeper
The day when the salmon coloured flowers open
I will essay
Go deeper
The day when the salmon coloured flowers open
I will essay
Make my poem
Going to prison
The clang of the steel door
It is my choice
But the steel door does clang
The introversion of this act
Past its seeming, past all thought of effect,
Until it is something like
Writing a poem in my silent room
On a spring morning of young wood
Of green wood
It will not burn
But the dreams burn
My hands have ashes on them
They fear it
And so they destroy the nearest things
My hands have ashes on them
They fear it
And so they destroy the nearest things
You hold a secret
A knowledge lost long time ago
Or it's simulacrum
And you're quoting books of Cortazar
As we tear our hearts wide open
On the edge of the end
On the edge of the end
On the edge of the end
On the edge of the end
I just wish to thank you for mutual decaying
I just wish to thank you
And I hope I won't fail
And I hope I won't fail
And I hope I won't fail
I hope I won't fail
Escape, escape
We'll escape, escape
Escape, escape
We'll escape, escape
Fighting for ever
And so they destroy the nearest things