Sharp being
A clear lookin´-glass
Warped existence in fables
Sounds and sights
Through mist upon self
A dinner is set on the table
Is there someone here then?
Where is this, when?

Lost in words tongue's not sound
This my house yours to keep
The walls are too deep
Death's but a surface sleep

Blunt teeth
Glass-cutter's dream
Wrapped a paper 'round the garden
Spilt voices
Through smoke and steam
Dinner still set on the table
Is there someone here, now?
When is now, how?

Lost in taste throat does so well
Swollen meanless anger
The windows too steep
Death's but a surface sleep

Sat watching
Into clear looking-glass
In warped existence through fables

Sounds and sights
Through smoke and steam
The dinner got cold on the table

Inside this empty meaning lost
Glass-cutter's dream now found
Through here smoke and steam
Death's but a surface sleep