Crisader - Wigwam

Angles

Pole held in hiding

Catches dead fish

Timorous rhythm ceaseless Rup-tured

Caressus

Catches dead fish

And pours into pocket

At length at length aware of death

Rushes

On wings of dread for familiar tree

Oblivious of pants at dry and warm change

Shackles locked with blessings

Opens book wearily

And lectures on ichtyic-reproduction

Vocation and responsibility true winds

Of perdition

Trying to release to cool

Trying to Strengthen

But safe and righteous mirages

Bring low the desperate prayer

Money and me we'll get any old tree

And money's the same whatever the game