Walk into the room
People move to stereophonic sound
And on the table knives are arranged
Poised to delve into the dying second's breast
And there rest, as the people move
To stereophonic sounds, bound
To the fixed orbits of their days
The food is varied, the food is good
The bottles hold the dying second's blood
That will be drunk at midnight
As the people fall upon the knives
In time to stereophonic sound
Walk in, begin the prescribed exercises
Of lip and tongue, among the people
moving to stereophonic sound
Like whales stranded aground
That can no longer hear the sea-song
Among the people in a stereophonic world
walk in, begin to go through the moves
groove through the figures of conversation
evasions and insinuations, from a mouthful of air
Cast a practised stare. Cold winds howl
In a primal monotone
Alone, they walk, the stereophonic people
To the silent tomb
