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My stone windows, Ribbed between Me and the storm outside, will blow away. There is something mad About a rainy day; Tonight, When it’s dark, And quiet and the moon slips from view, We will go mad, MAD, And from the skies A silver light shall Crack on our skulls. then I shall grab Hold of your arms, Cold sweat against the pane on a flying jeep, Or angel-horse, We’ll ride Into the heart where the sun is dying, Into the sun to which we're flying. Sign in to see full entry.