look baby where we’ve come
i can hardly bang my drum anymore
strange clouds mound the horizon
in furnaces of purple shadow
upon whirlpools of day and night
everything tastes the same
yet the knowing does not liberate
a fatal miscalculation has been made
and now it feels too late
to undo all the countless doings
i have laid an’ prayed my life by
guess I forgot to come clean
guess I never got out of babylon
- from London Works
