Creation The Incredible String Band

The messengers with sharpened heels
Flew backwards into whose galloping arms
And the impassioned Phoenix
Drawls a sad goodnight to fiction's tomb

Then come to me secretly
And with your silken feather
And with your silken feather
Open your rooms

Never, in fact, as he gazed amazed
At two lost eyebrows lisping into the unexpected
And the archetypal postman delivering your seed letters
Whose eyes are black eggs really
Upon a long shore, upon a long shore
Open your door, open your door

'Ask anyone,' he muttered, as he spat a small
Brilliant blue insect whirring into the gauze
'I would advise stilts for the quagmires
And camels for the snowy hills
And any survivors
Their debts I will certainly pay
There's always a way, there's always a way

I smiled with that gallantly concealed forceful nervousness
That has proved that oysters cry
And that I have come to know and accept as myself
And plucking a barbed feather from the morose universe
I called him deathless
And he left before he could reply
Open your eyes, open your eyes