In the thoughts of time we are of sandnWith aphasic songs the ratios are blindnA lucid air deletes the soundnThe water slows to receive younThe lantern guides to the evilnAs a weapon forms of the dawnnThe air reeks of foul playnInscribe your fears in the soilnThe sea is foulnLike worms in your heartnConsume an age oldnOf forgery and deceitnAt the center we will find younFalling prey to its lustre