Days of wind
Nights of change
We’re all dust in the night
Invisible
Shining in moonlight

Silver light
On the piers of Torquay
Game of shame
Theatre of delight
The game is afoot
Uncle Tom
You should see me now
Between gamblers, actors and girls
Wheels are spinning
Cards are flying
Nothing is certain
Between those who choose from
A wide selection of wines
Drinking from the wellspring
Of Life
«A la vida», they cry
And I reply with
Unaltered jubilation

The ugly light breaks
in the city of Torquay
It’s boring the hell out of me
And so is its people
The world is a dreary place
Why I ask Why I cry
Moonchild is
caught between the choice
of right and wrong
Divided by the forces
of light and darkness
Torn by the forces
of chaos and order
It’s me
I am that child
I am he
I am all the horny
Pubescent children
That has ever lived

Wide eyed I welcome
The Shadow Jewels
Of the hot darkness
In the first ten days of
Dark, steamy Torquay
«Good afternoon, young Sir»,
she said ridiculously soft
«Could I perhaps interest you
In the scenic tour»?
Yes, she could, indeed she could

Caught between the choice
of right and wrong
How sublime is the masters
How utterly ridiculous
is the lambs
Divided by the forces
of light and darkness
They tear at me
Torn by the forces of
chaos and order
They wear me down
I choose neither
I choose none
Choosing it all

Torquay hundred years after Crowley spent his crazy youth there.
It's nothing special. He made it something extraordinary.