In the time of forgotten dreams
Spaniard cried in the night, rivers
of pain, chest thundering stampede
Walking dark roads, going
insane, love screaming in
torment, "I can't thwart dead
Arapahos, there are yen ways to
Skin a jackalope, you are my cure,
my medicine, my vitamin, let me
lick your shadow, look inside my
suitcase from Mexico City, I have
One hundred fifty-two birds inside,
I was taking them to Madrid, now they
are yours," Spaniard gave her the
suitcase, it lifted her aloft, until she
vanished forever in the ashen clouds.
