A Passion Play (Edit #9)

Flee the icy Lucifer. Oh he's an awful fellow!
What a mistake! I didn't take a feather from his pillow.
Here's the everlasting rub: neither am I good nor bad.
I'd give up my halo for a horn and the horn for the hat I once had.

I'm only breathing. There's life on my ceiling.
The flies there are sleeping quietly.

Twist my right arm in the dark.
I would give two or three for one of those days that never made impressions on the old score.

I would gladly be a dog barking up the wrong tree.
Everyone's saved; we're in the grave.
See you there for afternoon tea.

Time for awaking.
The tea lady's making a brew-up and baking new bread.

Pick me up at half past none, there's not a moment to lose.
There is the train on which I came.
On the platform are my old shoes.

Station master rings his bell.
Whistles blow and flags wave.
A little of what you fancy does you good (Or so it should).

I thank everybody for making me welcome.
I'd stay but my wings have just dropped off.