Grismantine 

   Grismosis 

       Like the serpent 

                                 Weaving it's way to the hand

                               I sense the forgotten triangles

   Blue red yellow black 

Staring at the mystery 

              The giant flower spitting in your eye

       Our heads are swapped 

I can see myself but with your head

                Like the comic in the newspaper 

                                      Where the army guy is always sleeping