"And on your deathbed You inexplicably said 'The sun is masking the clouds'" He gracefully unlocks the door And we wade across the threshold As six black eyes bore into mine He pacifies the animal A cursory glance o'er my back Reveals the light receding And at the first of nine sharp ivory gates My final thought in crystal "And I have become the drought" Oh, the indistinct discord Oh, the crux of sound abhorred The sun is masking the clouds And I have become the drought The sun is masking the clouds And I have become the drought