The howler

(Belew/King Crimson) Here is the angel of the world's desire Placed on trial To hide in shrouded alley sihouettes With cigarette coiled To stike at passing voices Dark and suspect Here is the howling ire Here is the sacred face of rendevous In subway sour Whose grand delusions prey like intellect In lunatic minds Intent and focused on The long thin matches To light the howling fire... No, no, not me, Burn, I don't wanna burn.....