| In the gardens perched on the sky | |
| The ones where snakes sing lullabies | |
| I met a man who spoke to me | |
| A dead man hanging from a tree | |
| He craned his neck and whispered this | |
| "Perfection is the great abyss | |
| Leave now lest you share my fate | |
| A ghost dangling at heaven's gate" | |
| Why should I fear paradise? | |
| I lived free of mortal vice | |
| So I trudged on past the sycamores | |
| And stood before the pearly doors | |
| Through the bars I saw the fields | |
| The stars mere cogs in ox cart wheels | |
| The earth a pebble in a stream | |
| But not one human to be seen | |
| Undeterred I gripped the latch | |
| I pulled but it came unattached | |
| Despite my rage, the gates stood firm | |
| Then grew so hot I smelled flesh burn | |
| I ran back injurted to the groves | |
| And washed my wounds in waterfalls | |
| As I bathed I heard the groans | |
| Of voices wrapped in funeral pall | |
| Count leaves dangling from a branch | |
| Thus numbered bodies overhead | |
| Specters moaning for another chance | |
| To escape the orchard of the dead | |
| An empty noose caressed my neck | |
| The way my first love had | |
| A soothing feeling on my neck | |
| To forget the good and bad | |
| To forget the ones who hurt you | |
| To forget the ones you hurt | |
| To forget the hate all men accrue | |
| When their feet still touch the dirt |
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