One enchanted evening,

as I lay on my bed,

I took two little square mirrors

and placed them end to end.



Then, just to play with the moonlight,

I raised one ninety degrees.

That s when the spokes started spinning -

sucked my soul from it s eaves.



Thirteen times I ve sipped the wine -

dispelled the myth of time.

Took the heat of the sacrifice

and returned to ride.

13X.



Takes it s toll on the flesh and bones,

this dimensional dance.

If curiousity s killing me -

it s got the seat of my pants.



So, if you re lookin for answers

or just out for kicks,

don t be a distant cousin.

You all know where I live.



I ll walk you through where the mirrors meet

to a place

we ll be free to speak.

Between the sadness of sacrifice

to the belly

of the beast.

The Seventh Son of the Setting Sun

lays a shroud

on all that s black and white.

The narcotic of nightmare

pulses greyness out

in silvery sheets.