Leaving your farmland, the skyline lapses
Over slap of obvious health
Like a pea-shooter in hei ling about to sing:
"oh mein papa..."
Worse if you abandon that sheet of gospel
Which separates your hands.
At midnight, the [unclear] takes a cloud, idea denied by the
[unclear]
Whose livelihood relies on the number of newborns awake
(away?) from silent death
Among the pure and shiny [unclear]
But howsabout feigning misery as usual
As autumn glides in its fabulous rags
Into the gloom and evasiveness of the century
When you wilted
An obliviant runs away from it
Removed by your being stumped, condensing you