Fluid the medium by which we desire,
Heavy the limits to which we aspire
To lift ourselves free on the wings of a dove
To practise perfection by drinking his blood.
The illusion of earth is splintering fast
As we grab at the air, as we fall at the last:
Witchery, Witan, Wicca and Wizard
Pursuing the furies is why we are feared.
Opening space and stretching out time
In a flurry of words at thirty a dime.
We walk through the air, glance at the heights,
Sublimity scares us like the darkness of light:
In this cauldron of water, fire, earth and air
See! The silent assassin is everyfuckingwhere.