Brand new bright lights of Arco, Idaho go dim
One delusion runs its course, its companion thereupon begins
Old ghost white face of impatience wearing thin
Casting quiet curses as of course they came back round again
In spite of wonders, disbelief

We spent our nights climbing towers built on songs
From the obsolete inscriptions of the sons of Babylon
Were you not carved among the hunters and their king
W/ their chests adorned in necklace & their arms like falcon wings?
Were you not forged in grief
Avenging lions in the alabaster bas-relief?
Kristy with the Sparkling Teeth!