So it's come to this All virtues a-rusting Grotesque form reforming Rain-stained walls adoring As they swarm along their pipelines The air's all diesel and Dal Bhat Murmurs and muttering This places needs sheep Like a hospital needs the sick Perpetual purging But it keeps things ticking over Scrambling over so much priveleged rubble The caustic hangover Of our shame-ridden yesterdays The key's in your clock Burnished firebox, and wound Strike while the iron is shod Hour after hour they plod Oscillations profuse Into the clamour they sound All tarred and feathered and set alight Restless giants, sodden steps In the dusk and the klaxon resounds In their charred scattered husks I built my scaffold About the crux of matter Imbruing red in old sand paper Just scrape off the sin and eat what's left, darling! Feed the flesh, feed the flame Drive the swine of Gergasa Into the bitter waves Under the frenzied mule To scavenge; infirm, decrepit beggars The rivers are swallowing Their own tongues again Gagged with the overripe and spoiling Their years, drawn up from the potential well With a gurgling like melting wax cylinder Such triviality! Such inconsequence! What are the Polybotean to God? Organic chains without pretence Carbon murderous, soot-feathered and ripe A dwelling for the void of vision Vapid and finger-pointing More propagation than gestation A sad finale, played off-key Cruel vaudeville, for sure