Circle of Ouroborus -

All the things, the round, the square and the slow Pointing down to a corner far below And the light with darkness of memories I see it bend, coiling in ecstasy The gathering of mass (or the tainted ones) Unite with a star, in horizons I watch it pass I feel the beating and I feel the beat Bodies are battered, swarming in heat Centurions of the lowest class Swaying back and forth with the grass Then once again we come Then once again we come through the sun