You haven't found it yet,

Haven't found it yet.







Look at the glass, turn your head

You haven't found it yet.

Moving down the lane 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 top shackle

Mental saw-down of your head.*

Which bemoans a simple fact.

You haven't found it yet.







It seemed so clear in bed

It's dark but your legs, they are dead

Your pen is encombed 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 with dying breath

You haven't found it yet.







I dictate

Transcribe

Relations

Dear Cousin

It's destiny.



The grist that curtails the mill

shall make us strong