My feet were burned by roasting coal,
a cryptic message there foretold.
I felt the heat and longed for cold
and paid a price that wasn't sold.
The shell of that which used to be
turns unto fish and swims to sea.
I saw it all in morbid dreams
she passed beyond in front of me.
There set adrift a Sea of Holes:
a wayward grave of lofty goals.
The river flows o'er shores and shoals,
deposits one on banks of souls.
