Ivry

In a room like any other In a room like no other In the solitary cell Clouded with light Sitting straight at his length A burgeoning flame, a flower The principal within the hollow The excrement of divine sorrow In a room like any other In a room like no other In my twisted sheets His hands are vines Climbing unseen Forming shadows Rituals unknown And through him reborn In the bright pavilion Dawn is spreading At the foot of the bed A calming foot White bars of light In the solitary cell No film that flickers No mirrors at all In the comic stillness With his hands folded On this lovely morning Oh, this lovely journey Rituals, shadows Form, reform Circle the room Reborn through him In the joyous, in the joyous In the joyous dead of night The slash of words Sons of the dead The cross and the sword The unholy mother Gather together In a room like any other Hands like vines Limbs like climbs Glorious twisting Handlike staining The dangling feet Where he sits asleep Where he sits asleep With his eyes wide open Dead hands revived Dead hands revived And the comic foot Another step One step, then another Past the green chair Past an image Of himself Slowly, he goes From the room like any other Toward the mountain Toward the mountain In Mexico Where the soul quakes Where the heart aches To Mexico Our sleeping friend So scorned, adorned One step, then another From the solitary cell In a room like any other A man like no other An ivry, where time warns An ivry, where time Where time warns For time Time to go An ivry where time warns Time to go Tick, tick, tock Tick, tick, tock Tick, tick, tock Tick, tick, tock La la la la la la Time to go