Experiences always provide
Eternal questions of how we're fulfilled;
The masters of true living abide
By the paths of subtle discretion and skill.
Stripped of illusions the mind divides,
Into love you will be distilled.

The masters of true living abide
By the paths of subtle discretion and skill;
Realize the things which hatred hides
And severs one from Creation's build;
Stripped of illusions the mind divides,
Into love you will be distilled.

Realize the things which hatred hides
And severs one from Creation's build;
As paranoia and instinct collide
It's common to be distinctly willed.
Stripped of illusions the mind divides,
Into love you will be distilled.

As paranoia and instinct collide
It's common to be distinctly willed;
Instead reach out for the joy which guides,
The recompense for pure blood spilled.
Stripped of illusions the mind divides,
Into love you will be distilled.

Ever seen an anomaly, 
A form or figure of pure shock?
Something with a quality
Mundane existence can't unlock;
The harpists cranial of Dalí
Or the lip nipples of Georges Braque.

Something with a quality
Mundane existence can't unlock:
The most exalted psalmistry
And the Priapean cock;
The harpists cranial of Dalí
Or the lip nipples of Georges Braque.

The most exalted psalmistry
And the Priapean cock;
So alien a colony,
Cyclopeans of titan stock.
The harpists cranial of Dalí
Or the lip nipples of Georges Braque.

So alien a colony,
Cyclopeans of titan stock
Reach out to us slalomly,
Emerging from a sky of rock:
The harpists cranial of Dalí
Or the lip nipples of Georges Braque.

A friend from yesteryear was here,
A figure from an erstwhile dream.
Companion of the times of sere
Bereavement, how is it you seem
To be with us despite the years,
The many years, of death supreme?

Companion of the times of sere
Bereavement, how is it you seem
In arm's reach or behind my ear?
A whispery remembrance teems,
To be with us despite the years, 
The many years, of death supreme.

In arm's reach or behind my ear
A whispery remembrance teems,
And voices from the past I hear.
Suspended loss; the eyes still beam
To be with us despite the years,
The many years, of death supreme.

The voices from the past I hear.
Suspended loss; the eyes still beam
From out the photograph so clear.
Sometimes I fear I hear him scream
To be with us despite the years,
The many years, of death supreme.