I go out walking with the old departed,nAnd I’ve been dreaming of these souls, nI feel so close in darkness,nI’ve got the vapor on my skin,nTasting cold hard history each time my body chooses to,nBreath in a bird there is a honey bee,nWithin richness there is polity,nStick religion up your blasphemynMister Richard Christopher and Anthony,nChristopher and AnthonynChristopher and AnthonynChristopher and AnthonynChristopher and AnthonynAnd if they feed me to the lions,nAt least the name that’s swallowed up somehow gets left behind,nIt’s on my passport and mine too,nStop with me religously,nLike prisoners with gantilenTo the east the wind was westilynWicked witches ducked regretfully,nThis harmonica are mine eternally,nMister Richard Christopher Anthony,nChristopher and Anthony,nChristopher and AnthonynChristopher and AnthonynChristopher and Anthonyn