And I think there was men before who were too scrambled    By Donna's awesome awesome power   But did any of them ever fly?    And by fly I mean moving in and out of the crescents and into the indentations and the golden crescents of the sky?   The pink flowers are dying but everything everywhere is occasionally getting into the dying       See William, see that brown speck on top of that Irish island that is sure proof man that everything is sometimes into dying       I never liked that co-pilot now even less    Since he took my laughter and bled it upon the altar of his own designs       Slit my joy's neck    Drained it of its blood raised a sacrificial goblet to himself and the virulent power of his own fucking loins       Decelerate decelerate   The aeroplane is diving   Out of gold       And if we go slow enough I might drop to bombay   I might sense the green air I might be dropped out of phase   I wish the pink flowers away