I want to wait for the swing,
trade back these wheels
that I got for my old pair of wings.
Quieter people in Canada call me to leave,
but Mary decided to stay and destroy everything.

Put a match to that book that I read.
I want to pull it away from my head.
It's smoking and violent,
my temple is hallow and red.
It's empty
and I worship worn wooden statues instead.

Am I moving forward or further away?
After the show, afterglow's slow decay proves
progress dissolves the distinctions displayed.
The study of nature is fraught
in the light of midday.

(God knows we all tried;
but radio still died)