They are around outside, in the night, rattling through the corn
And in their eyes, which stir my blood, black holes are born
My breath held like a gem, I look to see them scattering
Dashing into the lake and the heavens they coagulate
These shoes are not for the likes of you
These shoes are not for the likes of your poor souls
It's down to me alone to get shut of their yawning claws
They hover over your heart like violence
I go back inside, drink coffee, black as the night is long
And strong enough to prop me up, a monolith of runes
A trick of the eye
An optical illusion, pigs might fly
In my dreams every atom is crystal clear
And for a moment when I wake everyone's here