At the sideshow, the heads with wings, in harmonious life.
Olive in my hand, after ten months and ten days, dancing samba as a midwife.
On my going, the towers made from the salt of the earth, at every door.
At a pub, drunken and put on the head, a fried calamari like a halo.
After a typhoon has passed, by jacob's ladders, get up and get down the angels do.