Pain day sky beauty die black joy   Love empty day life die pain passion   Joy black day hate beauty die life   Joy ache empty day pain die love   Passion joy black light      And if God is dead what am I?   A fleck of dirt on the wing of a fly   Hurtling to earth   Through a hole in the sky      And if Warhol's a genius, what am I?   A speck of lint on the penis of an alien   Buried in gelatin   Beneath the sands of Venus      Time sun hurt trust peace dark rage   Sad white rain sun anger hurt soft   Trust night rage rain white hope dark   Sacred sun time trust hurt rage anger   Rain white light      And if a bird can speak, who once was a dinosaur   And a dog can dream, should it be implausible   That a man might supervise?   The construction of light   The construction of light      Pain day sky beauty die black joy   Love empty time sun hurt trust peace   Dark rage sad white rain hate anger   Hope sacred passion life night ache soft light