Caught when I was still a child   By a terrible vision of my Christ   And caught in the throat by your signs and tears and goodbyes      I picked me up   And walked too far   With thought of no return   And not to see your face again and drowning all my hopes   And wishing no longer upon stars      Believing   No longer in moonlight   Or other dreams or other fields   Upon all of which we so beautifully play   I saw a waste of all      And so I put away   All talk of death's heads   And a little glimpse is a bloodblossomed force   And all talk of apocalypse      Apocraphon and Apollyon   Abaddon   All abandoned   Then I saw in myself the bowl and a gun   And the glory that was to come