A junky on Leavenworth said Below the Transamerica Pyramid There's a tunnel to the underworld She was just that type of girl To crawl through demonic steam Through a dead dog's mouth A flower grows in the dark That's what she's all about Everything I thought I threw away Come back around to me someday Footsteps are audible after the grasses cease The oak is alive by what is buried underneath A flower grows in the dark Near the land of dreams But don't ask me how I know Don't ask me what it means Facing the sun, blind to your shade The darkened spot where our bodies once laid Upon the flame and left a burn There's only molecules in the urn Don't confine or define me I'm not your experiment And I mean everything I say Or something not unlike it To the vanished one I lost Tape recorder turning beneath the frost Flower in the gutter, forgotten Consecrated with this crop of cotton I'd recognize your lowdown ways Even if you change your form I need my Beltane baby To keep my body warm