I Myself Am Hell; Nobody's Here

Pity The Planet, All Joy Gone From This Sweet Volcanic Cone

What Can The Dove Of Jesus Give You Now But Wisdom, Exile? Stand And Live, The Dove Has Brought An Olive Branch To Eat.

Their Monument Sticks Like A Fishbone In The City's Throat.

History Has To Live With What Was Here, Clutching And Close To Fumbling All We Had - It Is So Dull And Gruesome How We Die, Unlike Writing, Life Never Finishes.

And Blue-lung'd Combers Lumbered To The Kill.