I was dancing in a cold space untouched by light
Faithfuls screaming on the way down
Those elite who had seen; they know, they believe
But we in the fog, bush doused with water and reeds
Saw your white-fire religious turmoil there, sick darkness
Head down, marble-scraped face cold
Go tell it on their mount
Lord I pray let me never grow old

I am unseen, compliant errata
I am rejection with her soft eyes, curly hair
I am the green sky, sick through the desert
I am the clenched fist swinging nowhere

And I came to the sun, to the end of the line
Head down, marble-scraped face cold
Just tell it on their cloud-topped mount
God save me from the words I’m told