We sleep by the ever-bright hole in the door eat in the corner talk to the

floor -- cheating the spiders who come to say ``Please'',

(politely).

They bend at the knees.

Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs.

Old gentlemen talk of when they were young of ladies

lost and erring sons.

Lace-covered dandies revel (with friends) pure as the truth --

tied at both ends.

Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.

Scented cathedral -- spire pointed down.

We pray for souls in Kentish Town.

A delicate hush -- the gods floating by wishing us well --

pie in the sky.

God of ages Lord of Time -- mine is the right to be wrong.

Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.

Jack rabbit mister spawn a new breed of love-hungry pilgrims

(no bodies to feed).

Show me a good man.

I'll show you the door.

The last hymn is sung and the devil cries ``More.''

Well, I'm all for leaving and that being done, I've put in a request

to take up my turn in that forsaken paradise that calls itself ``Hell'' --

Where no-one has nothing and nothing is

well meaning fool, pick up thy bed and rise up from your gloom smiling.

Give me your hate and do as the loving heathen do.

Colors I've none -- dark or light, red, white or blue.

Cold is my touch (freezing).

Summoned by name -- I am the overseer over you.

Given this command to watch o'er our miserable sphere.

Fallen from grace called on to bring sun or rain.

Occasional corn from my oversight grew.

Fell with mine angels from a far better place, offering services for

the saving of face.

Now you're here, you may as well admire all whom living has retired

from the benign reconciliation.

Legends were born surrounding my