| I often dream of huge, numb buildings
|
| Jet-black, sinister architecture
|
| Being installed when nobody sees
|
| Their appearance so sudden
|
| That few would take notice
|
| And when I wake up
|
| I imagine being crushed by one
|
| Imagining its weight, its silence
|
| And the absence of excuses for a havoced life
|
| And the privilege of a 22-kilometer tombstone
|
| Jotun
|
| A body of black
|
| That carried no reflection
|
| Defying its own room
|
| Un-earthly eggs of decreation
|
| There would be colonies
|
| Mushroom-scattered, forever out of context
|
| Rising spores from a dying world
|
| To pollute, to chase away what’s left
|
| Sun-white, pulverized desert stone
|
| And serpentine lizard mouths
|
| Pales away the pyramids
|
| Rewriting 4,500 years of history
|
| Raping the statue of liberty
|
| Outplays the acropolis
|
| Inverting the fjords
|
| Invades the N.Y. skyline to
|
| Dream its own existence in one single final word
|
| Jotun
|
| A body of black
|
| That carried no reflection
|
| Defying its own room
|
| Un-earthly eggs of decreation
|
| A body of black
|
| That carried no reflection
|
| Defying its own room
|
| Un-earthly eggs of decreation
|
| Can we identify them
|
| As the flint buried in our reptile skulls
|
| Or the time-bomb coded in our DNA
|
| Jotun
|
| A body of black
|
| That carried no reflection
|
| Defying its own room
|
| Un-earthly eggs of decreation |