This is for when the radio is broken and crackles like uranium orchids
    This is for when the fohn-wind rattles the telegraph wires like a  
                            handful of bones
 This is for when dream ambulances skitter through the streets at midnight
This is for when you get caught in a sleep-riot and the sky is out of order
               This is for when your sex is full of voodoo
               This is for when your clothes are imaginary
         This is for when your flesh creeps and never comes back