Mirror Note             
 At An Opportunity, A Moment Such As This 
 Underappreciated, Underestimated, Under  
 There Is Simply No Time To Choose What   
 Everything Is In Through The Left Half   
     Of My Face, And Out Exactly Opposite 
     Through The Right Half Of The  
     Plus Minus Zero But Polar Opposites! 
     The Echo Is Travelling With Every    
     Beat, Maybe One Hundred And Thirty   
     Milliseconds, To Two Hundred And     
  Eighty Milliseconds, And Down,       
     Along My Dreads, Maybe Like          
   A Cap To The Left And Up Four Hundred  
 To The Right                             
    About Magnetism Or What Else    
   Distortion And Heavy Glass And Palm    
   I Have Music That Lives Into Weirder   
    Corridors, My Flesh Is Pushing        
    Body Further Inside                   
   There        Is Too Much Moving Inside 
 Weird Revolvings, How Much Madness,      
 Weird About How Much Madness That'S      
       Ia  Revolved About To Be Revolve 
     And I, The Surgeon, Choose The       
    Frying Pan                            
   Whatever Dog I Want   
  And My Speed Is Everything. The Last    
      Radar Station... For A While...