Eight flights of stairsnLead me to explanation,nStill as the air of the breath I exhaled yesterday.nWell, while I wasn't looking,nA simpleton in a pair of shoes got in my headnWith a rifle in pieces.nnImages can always be conjured upnAnd back down againnWhen your life is spent watching the news as it happens.nDetermined and impassionednTo keep me in the basementnAnd yet in my head lies a rifle in pieces.nnIn the middle of the middle,nIn the centre of the centre,nWe will seenThat the riddle of all riddlesnIs that it is right before us.nnWhat kind of Dallas morning was it?nOh timeless, dateless morn'.