Dream of a Vanilla Sky Moderated Infatuation controlled By the Vanilla Sky, A man walks through the autumn breeze With two blind eyes Bound together, in old straw and twine. The third eye is between his lips and ears Existing but invisible. The last leaf of autumn falls In his left pocket, His shirt is torn and his feet are Blistered. He carries tears with the wasted years, His hair is white Like the first snowfall of the winter, Left untouched. The sky grows darker But the man walks and walks With his assortment of belongings, Dreaming old and new fantasies…. Wanton face and the pale skin, Foils with the lewd colors Of an autumn wind yet to be born. He has a beard now And he lies still, You can see him there Lying on the gravel on his back, Watch the little maggots Enjoy a delightful five star meal. The maggots are white Just like his hair, Under the Vanilla Sky.