Hot on the heels of ’78 / The wailing dance of the cardiac rate
Break out lungs in ecstacy / the gross physique of devilry says,
«Oh! When they play the music too slow
My heart falls into the cold / and the ice has come again!»
Take my future, take my hand / Take a turn in the promised land
Host of quadrille, heel of fire / spirals down the steepest spire
The spiral of hope and the noose of the rope and the draw of the blade