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Oh my! these nightpeople are on the move
In an evening of lights blessed st Remy
The way they slide about is modern poetry
Nothing like their kind

For what holds back tongue twined young
Minds bent to scurry in a lifetime
Of mad joy before the endtime ends once more
Tasting of lime and solemnity

Oh my! nightpeople lank and lie
Around the corners of slow dreams faster
Than the past shadows my eye
In the face of forever

For soon is the hour of reckoning dejected
Sitting on the lawn pockets out staring
Into each face in line, and nodding, we sense
Daypeople coming.