Love, with their sacrosanct tempestsOf holy ghostly blows and urineThey have crucified usOur wreckage nailed to a cross, a Calvary of a seafloorWhere ..
A paper sailor he isHe turns around to the seasHis starboard moving awayThrough waves of ravenous firesThrough gales of black smokeAmidst mists of ash..
Oh to build our homesUpon swirls of tornadoesAnd watch over rubbleAs they blossom and ripen beneath our windowsOh to soar higher and higherThe flappin..