In the ruins of World-Dome Six
The clockwork man hums, blurs, and clicks
One by one snuffing the wicks
Of the trillion candles of World-Dome Six
In the ruins of Procylex Port
The Plasma Jack holds formal court
Accusing of crimes (the lurid sort)
Cold Plasma Jill of Porcylex Port
In the ruins, deep within
Truth has very tender skin
Cut a hole—let blood rush in
Crawl quickly now! Go in, go in!