in the temple of midnight

countin down
the eve of seein
two score eleven

i cast a fire on the altar
dispelling the crypt-light 
as lemon crawls across the 
surface of the sea about a
thousand miles away and is
closing fast

nevermind all that
movvin right along
down to funky town 
along da riverbank
and the lapping of 
the currents gains
slimey stone walls 
the dirty smell of 
waters moist chill 
sinks in