sharp being a clear lookin´-glass warped existence in fables sounds and sights through mist upon self a dinner is set on the table is there someone here then? where is this, when?
Lost in words tongue's not sound this my house yours to keep the walls are too deep death's but a surface sleep
blunt teeth glass-cutter's dream wrapped a paper 'round the garden spilt voices through smoke and steam dinner still set on the table is there someone here, now? when is now, how?
lost in taste throat does so well swollen meanless anger the windows too steep death's but a surface sleep
sat watching into clear looking-glass in warped existence through fables
sounds and sights through smoke and steam the dinner got cold on the table
inside this empty meaning lost glass-cutter's dream now found through here smoke and steam death's but a surface sleep