Now the lights in the blue fluorescent hint hues
Each shone copper of pigment, in lover’s lost shoes,
Flying mountains now face you in directions where ghosts
Come alive in your mind and your long vacant hosts
To take away from this boredom of each random day's coast
Swinging seats now move us – for each better and worse
And the piccolo soundings seep from horns of the hearst
Marking the end of the Man, who now holds in his hand
The red tear dropped signed package
Of a Lord's love in his land
Burning like horizons; that have died till its dusk
Where the endings are beginnings, and our cries are now rust
And the smiles of the day reflect the patchings in Sun
Stronger; as whole, we are the West found and won.
