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The key to joy is disobedience
There is no guilt and there is no shame
A moon piece to fetch up the golden cup
A snow piece to avoid the great heat of the sun
Is kept in the night and by the light of the moon
An ice piece so as they seem forever fallen
A night piece of the dismal supper and strange entertainment
A rare chance piece a handsome piece of deformity
The skin of a snake bred out of the spinal marrow of a man
With stones and illegible inscriptions found about great ruins
Pictures of three remarkable steeples or towers
Built purposely awry so as they seem eternally tipping and falling
A transcendent perfume made of the richest odorates
Kept in a box of translucent scale
A glass of spirits made of ethereal salt hermetically sealed up
Kept continually in quicksilver of so volatile a nature
That it will scarcely endure the light
And therefore only shown in winter
Or by the light of a carbuncle or a firefly
And batwings
And batwings
And batwings sing this limnal hymn
A wideness opening and closing to keep the darkness sealed within
To keep the darkness sealed within
To keep the darkness sealed within
To keep the darkness sealed within
A moon piece to fetch up the golden cup
