antichrist and barcodes in the air that we breathe with a little black box i hide in the sky in the water that trickles in our mouths in the codes that flicker are lives on and off does the carton nights starts to swallow and shiver and to freeze the fish belly up the unborn served up obeying the planets no insense is strong enough to make this life complete alpha and omega the great in the small the bu*terflies flutter by the foxes stop running the moon as sharp as a sickle and as bright as a pin breathed its heavy sick breath as we fitfully slept and heavily dreamed to awake back into endings and quietly wait for the trains to stop chugging and the clocks to implode his name is under our skin and so by the hair of my chinny chin chin by hook or by crook our necks are in the news