The artist is not the sage, he is caught up in himself
The poet will not come to reign, his realm is merely words
Without them we are lost,
“What we have is what we want”
May your logic never fail
There is nothing -- total sum loss
Speak of transcending Babylon, leave the earthly ways
Braid my tongue to speak the words and leave this world behind
This all seems so good and true
But so corrupt, caught up in life
Alone in a vast America, millions without a prayer
Lain by Pluto’s altar, in high tech gilded halls