Who will pull the trigger, send the whole thing up in flames? Who is
juggling figures, plans the last move of the game? Now we're coughing
blood, the desert winds erupt, the power's cut, our dream has been
corrupted. Maybe we never dreamed enough. Count to five and shut your
eyes, you'll find that everything's still there, a little slower, less
alive, and I've got lizards in my hair. Still I chew my daily bread, I
cannot let go of my thread, you still scream inside my head. All the

things I should have said, never said, never say. And the cat ripped out
my tongue, the vulture swooped and stole my eyes. I'm scavengin crumbs
in the Kingdom of the Flies. Fly me.(x5)