Comet streams and rocket scenes
And cyclone-turning seas
Thy foes profanely rage
Hands washed, Pontius Pilate clean
In proud Euphrates' stream
Where no one knows my name

Over the moor
Nearer the shoe to stolid floor
Imagine you
Waves the foreign shores
Before the sun I rose
As faithful years
To grapefruit fields and orange groves
Hastening lest thy gates be closed

But I find, I find…
But I, but I find, but I find...

Tolling bells through Courchevel
All cable pulls' lifts are full
Go search the world beneath

Cladding breach
At 3-mile beach
All spent fuel pools are full
It's all the same to me--
Over the stones
I’d brought them there
With thoughts to bear
And fates unknown
The lonesome maker bones
Under the stones
The dreadful things the night will bring:
The Werewolf King
Peddling round her sapphire ring

But I find, I find…
But I, but I find, but I find...
But I, but I find, but I find...
But I, but I find, but I find...