Back through the swirling mists of antiquity
Back through the night, to the dawn.
When man first emerged from the primordial slime
that was his birthright.
at pigeons on the roof
An old man smiled and stayed his hand
with words of soft reproof
"But look at the mess they've made of my hat,
I see wild rolling cumulus clouds
Like vast mountains arrayed cross the sky
And among the dark canyons a silvery cross
seems the might of those Titans to try