Spanish Gold, 2044

"Oh, we are nothing
But what our words leave behind
Are worth the raiment of the sun"
Sighed Palinurus, humming 'Bird on a Wire'
Eyeing the cloth of the sun
"Thus we are nothing but what our words leave behind."
Thus, collect your poetries and incantations
In a bullet for the ride
I haven't read them
I will not read them for they dwell too much on signs
Thus, the desert deserts thee
I left this bullwhip by the nightstand
Juilliard was a thousand miles ago
Where're you gonna run when the clouds break?
And the sun peeks his eye
With attitude awry

And you're set upon and lost
Lost, feeling that the pain of ages rocks
Feeling that the pain of ages rocks (rocks!)
Feeling that the pain of ages rocks

Hex signifiers, iambic petrifiers
And Roman shit that we have left behind
I'm gonna plumb the white pages
Rocking the pain of ages
Looking at your graceless depictions of light
Though, when there's nothing left to read
There shall be nothing left to write
That's when I get on board and drop

I left this bullwhip by the nightstand
And Juilliard, you were a thousand miles ago
When you said it drops
Or you're feeling that the pain of ages rocks
Feeling that the pain of ages rocks (rocks!)
Feeling that the pain of ages rocks

Oh, all they own they see
All they own they see

Oh, the rain's got to fall
Oh, the rain's got to fall