Good thieves of burning cars encirle poisened rivers minds and hearts   Horses want to dance but find their wings are damaged, water damaged   Gold is selling well but hurry nightly ocean rising fast   A big man with a plan has got a storm a-coming, monster coming.      From Atlantis to interzone    You start on the edge and you end on your own.   From Atlantis to interzone    You start on the edge and you end on your own      We're fragments of fiction      Your dead man half alive who hangs from helping numbers one to five   His ears pricked with the knife hears that the east are coming, west are coming   From gravity's rainbow, the axis here is still unknown   The children's faces glow    The wasteland guides them, wasteland guides them.