You'll find me, too ...
You'll find me living in the lake by the cave,
howling at the moon and reviewing my rave
of your opera: "Melting a snowman's head",
it sounds like Nietzsche saying Santa is dead.
Dead Critics' Society, dead raves with a lisp
Page 5: A slaughter of the Will-O'-the-Wisp.
Grieve at my absence. Cry for your own sake.
—The days are not quiet, my skin turns to crisp.
-----
-Svein Olav
[This message has been edited by Solan (edited May 24, 2002).]
|