Wandering in the chaos the battle has left
We climb up the mountain of human flesh
To a plateau of green grass, and green trees full of life
A young figure sits still by a pool
He’s been stamped “Human Bacon” by some butchery tool
He is you
Social Security took care of this lad
We watch in reverence, as Narcissus is turned to a flower

 

A flower?

esta flor cresceu à minha porta