The Howler

Here is the angel of the world's desire Placed on trial To hide in shrouded alley silhouettes With cigarette coiled To stike at pa*sing voices Dark and suspect Here is the howling ire Here is the sacred face of rendezvous In subway sour Whose grand delusions prey like intellect In lunatic minds Intent and focused on The long thin matches To light the howling fire No, no, not me, Burn, I don't wanna burn