The motorcycle ‘Black Madonna’, two-wheeled gypsy queen
And her silver-studded phantom cause the gray flannel dwarf to scream
As he weeps to wicked birds of prey, pick up on his bread crumb sins
And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden

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At dawn my lover comes to me and tells me of her dreams
With no attempts to shovel the glimpse
Into the ditch of what each one means
At times I think there are no words but these to tell what’s true
And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden