smoke rises from an ice factory on the edge on the edge of a city that exists in perpetual gloom i snatch a note from the basket of a passing bicycle it says go to the flour factory there s something waiting there for you under the window covered by curtains all lacy and spattered with blood we find crutches in the corner and bullets on the shelves which i dismiss at once as being equivalent irrelevant in and of themselves underneath the staircase there s a mast which flies a flag despite dankess beyond imagining it floats on to a higher hole in tunnels gouged beneath the basement rooms are unmistakably sets of bloody handprints on a crumbling wall oh won t you be there with me for it tonight in this hut to hut witch hunt down the tunnels of old yellowcake where all the souls in a city go drowning by starlight where each choice you make is a fierce firefight it s a new mistake inside of a room there s a cage there s a cage it s a made out of chain and glass it s about forty feet high and three feet wide it was built to last it s against a brick wall in an old muddy corner of a basement tunnel room there s a man in the cage in the old muddy corner he s asleep but he ll wake up soon under the window covered by curtains all lacy and spattered with blood we find crutches in the corner and bullets on the shelves which i dismiss at once as being equivalent irrelevant in and of themselves oh won t you be there with me for it tonight in this hut to hut witch hunt down the tunnels of old yellowcake where all the souls in a city go drowning by starlight where each choice you make is a fierce firefight it s a new mistake 