With glittering hands, on collapsible land, we're praising the sun, for the damage he's done. A ruinous eyesore - oh what is a mind for? Just a knife in a lake, just an arrow in space. All creation is hollow -and a picture's a shadow. Just a symptom of love, with a lack of a cause. Now the city's dissolving, and heaven's inhaling, while the ocean is thinking of a surface reflecting Your glorious mind, your glorious mind, your glorious mind, your glorious mind...