You haven't found it yet, Haven't found it yet. Look at the glass, turn your head You haven't found it yet. Murmur down the line, inside It's flashy Camden Town It's that London lyric again You haven't found it yet. Impulses crowd your head Too much to be absorbed You're into the jackal mental Saw down of your head.* Which bemoans a simple fact. You haven't found it yet. It seemed so clear in bed It starts with your legs, they are dead Your pen is entombed in mattress You're not going to get it yet You haven't found it yet You're dying but still warm Put this writing on your tomb Spit out your dying breath You haven't found it yet. I dictate Transcribe Relations Dear Cousin It's destiny. [mumbling at end.]
