Your eyes are like times your eyes are like people your eyes are like failures to see
My eyes are like rhymes my mother's backyard covered with pine needles stabbing your eyes
The ground it is misty
The fences is silver-sharp spikes
I'm out on the edge where I can't see
out on the periphery
He wasn't right in the head
I may not be right
Bird sang of the murder
The train in the night
I wasn't right in the head
Good night Irene
Not a man or a woman or anything like me
Out on the edge where I can't see
Out on the periphery
Beyond the periphery
Where many martyrs fell
How far gone into my defect am I?
Sometimes my song obliterates yours
Your book is terrible, violent and long
So what did you do doing your song?
I picked up Ossiris
But I'm not Isis
Looked into a void of love, I fell in
Out on the edge where I can't see
Out on the periphery