Written by: David Byrne

When in twilight, stars that pierce the mould
Bring livid comfort to my sorry chest
The dome of night extends its azure fest 
And spirits rise with stories to behold

Urgency precipitates my brow
Such beauty must be conquered or put down
A thousand times I’ve seen this faulted crown
Upon my task, exalted sacred cow

Laden with this burden that I feel
For crisp cold beauty heaped on matters done
Splendour with an edge as sharp as steel

Trodden ground where older seeds I’ve sown
Beneath another twilight thus prolong
Eureka moments past my heart have flown