I am a cerebral pancake,
Floating like a Frisbee on the wind.
I ascend to heights not dreamt of by mankind;
I descend to scathe the tendrils of the trees.
I awake from night time's dreary drunken rage,
In taciturn and melancholy ways.
The stream of sun's blood golden river rays,
Is driven to the marrow of my soul.
Watch now! Watch now!
The mountain's rivers flow like pulsing veins.
Blood beds rushing, racing, run no more.
A pancake now, synaptic consciousness will stream.
Night races on and slakes the tender morn.
I view the passing scenes with eyes of Rhine.
Darkness fades away and soon is breakfast served:
Syrup with my thoughts and toast and eggs.