Riding a Tide The Buggles

All the poems
Of my neighbors
That drift across the sand

Are just the tendrils
Of a vast
But gentle plant which they command

The headdress
Of a goddess
You wore the night we came

Is only
One small symptom
And really not to blame

You're riding a tiger
Riding a tiger

Heaven
Sent the mortals
Ranged upon the wall

And likewise
All the missiles
Shot to make them fall