Parzival and the Pulse (1999)

I hate the lights blue
Black untrue.
I hate their form,
Striated and tough
On tired eyes
Too young in this storm.

Sometimes I can hear the lights of a Neon,
Rodeo-corral casino;
The pixels of the refugee newscast.

You who may take the wheel and spin,
Take heed these words and look to kin
Dear ones once tall and just.
Dear dear friends,
You must you must,
Take heed and listen,
Through logistic operation and division,
To dive or tip into icy stream
Once tall and just,
Now dust like dreams.
Take all your time,
And in the time warp boogie of a limbo grip:
I wish I could find him,
Ask him,
Show him out of the crystal trap,
He who wears the silver skull cap.
'What is the secret --who does it serve?
'I myself seem to have forgotten.

'Quand Parzival la trouvera
lui, le roi,
le coeur de lion, sera
mort dans son lit.'
Oui. Oui.

I hate the lights, now white, not blue
burning, burning, burning,
Burning a fiddler
Fiddle "Datta"