In the beginning all was reverie
The liberty of untrammeled passion
The mad and the furious and the free
With nothing against that could us threaten
Through streets of ashen grey we ran like dogs
The Sons of Adam, The Daughters of Eve
Their blood and flesh their own last epilogue
Our failure there the crown of the naive
When they came for us it was moonlit night
With dispassionate tooth and righteous claw
They rationed canon upon sybarite
Our reckless blood to feed primeval law
And I, alone, survived that desperate hour
Left to stand mute deed in our fools’ bower
Heretical Reflections 