There’s the paper cut of God tonightThat is cutting off straight on the skyAnd I can see the myths falling down on the soilWhile all the holy stars are fixed in the cosmic boilingLet me breed myself with poetry and life‘cause my habits make me live famineBut my anatlon(1) is here for seas of oxygenTo make the anatia(1) big as the green newly landLugh(2)…