| No one here can show you where it is but I can point to a sign
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| On the roof of the world without apparent design
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| The frozen definition of a lunatic ambition to rise
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| The air is thin, the future dim, dimension hard to find
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| Up on a mountain encased in solar rays
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| Beyond electric dreams of inarticulate passion plays
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| Coming down a mountain, eons have a human ring
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| The conversation of impassive planets
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| Intercepted by a human being
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| Ratioclination is a practicable way to derive
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| An attitude of altitude and probity by which to abide
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| Or maybe of the a theophany of flaming creosote in disguise
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| The air is thin, the future dim, dimension undefined
|
| Up on a mountain encased in solar rays
|
| Beyond electric dreams of inarticulate passion plays
|
| Coming down a mountain, eons have a human ring
|
| The conversation of impassive planets
|
| Intercepted by a human being
|
| Here glaring cold in the crystalline geometry of night,
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| Obscuring form and tracing faceless fears
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| Of a suprahuman immensity in a patch of sand
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| Or a raptors guileless shivering intensity,
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| I’m only a visitor,
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| And atom of atoms on a jutting red splattered synagogue of granite
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| As it crouches literally in space,
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| A frozen amoral giant gazing heavenward forever
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| Let’s go where the raptor goes to the mountain in a cosmic glow
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| We’ll have a genuine terrestrial show on a mountain — on a mountain
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| Let’s scan the horizon clean for any trace of human schemes
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| And try to touch upon immortal themes on a mountain — on a mountain |