I hope to be there when the eggs of skepticism hatch and develop into superior bodies of free-thought
The author – our hands
The abrogates – our minds
The author – our minds
The abrogates – our hands
Salvation’s rent is due and Chapter 11 has been filed
I hope to be there when the timbers split and stained glass decorates the sky like a million pixies winking
Like a million eyes under ice
The potter’s wheel has been reinvented and his products will never die
The butcher’s blade has been whet and his products were never alive
So let the tree of previous knowledge fall and be the first to leave the hive