When the everywhere-eye Asks you Who is the emperor Of the sky Take the Archangel's Thunderbird Go to Edgar Allen In the tower of sleep He'll tell you a story Which makes you to creep The echo of your cries Is falling so deep Rent a destroyer And sail to Cape Cod There lives a lion They call him God There is no elevator to Eden But a hole in the sky In shock-corridors People are standing With their eyes in their hands But they don't understand Why their confessional folding-chairs Go into the narcotic flight of stairs Baiting soldiers are sleeping In the melting House of Wax Why is the audience not taking The insurrection-axe Thousands of windows burst open And the alarm bells are broken