The Coin

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Ashqelon Quilt

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A light still shines inside my mind
Two tunnels curve behind my eyes
My pumping-heart and bones and veins
Beside them, or within?

Collecting stamps, collecting songs
Collecting joy and decadence
There's no way to evaluate
God's varied precious things

A northern gull, a leopard's skull
A song of faith, a turret lathe
Things matter for their poetry
Their symbols and their price

When night arrives comes day for those
Who live beyond, across the globe
The prince of air crawls everywhere
On desert sand and Ice
On desert sand and Ice

Sharp frequencies and sonic cracks
Came barging through the radio
And after fifty centuries
Ruth climbed up to the ground

She touched the leaves, they weren't real
She held the earth, it had no feel
Is anyone around, she screamed
But couldn't make a sound

Am I a symbol or a soul
My suffering - was it worth it all
A trillion offspring learn of me
But can they sympathize?

The truth of death, the song of birth
Lie in the core of planet earth
And here we float in frequencies
And irony and lies
In irony and lies

All gray afternoons have their similar tunes
And their stories don't vary a lot
I try to look through from a whole point of view
But I only can see what I've got

Tell me your secrets, show me your view
Out in the distance is anything new?
I'm feeding the cat and I'm chasing the rat and
My fate is a blue dot away

I drank myself to death today
That brings me back my confidence
I tell the other side I've won
My own autonomy

Decay revival then decay
And all together all at once
My sainthood and my blasphemy
Are dancing both with me

A wrinkled hand, a cup of tea
A veteran, the ghost of me
A story full of mystery
Your wishes, what you've got

Just tell me what surrounds and what's inside
And what is parallel
And who will never meet and what's a
Synonym of what
A synonym of what

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