Goose-stepping on a soul song
you set the sky ablaze,
and I was not ready to welcome you.
I was hungry and I was thirsty
but could not find the road.
Back and forth, back and forth
walking with the toad.
You can guess my predicament
when I said that, I am, not I would assault
on the chaste fruit of the moon,
growing on the tall tree of September.
