The Scythers, Time And Death, Helmed Locusts,

If Youth Is A Defect, It Is One We Outgrow Too Soon.

Everywhere, Giant Finned Cars Nose Forward Like Fish; A Savage Servility Slides By On Grease.

I Was Overcome With An Attack Of Pathological Enthusiasm.

Wallowing In This Bloody Sty, I Cast For Fish That Pleased My Eye

The Scythers, Time And Death, Helmed Locusts, Move Upon The Tree Of Breath