Guatavita

Sat bolt upright, hollow eyed and stark naked

In the greasy fog of the steaming wand

My mind turns, my mind turns to the glories of El Dorado

Hope falls like torrential rain

Scouring blood from the streets

With the cursed mutants of recent years

So I lace my skin with gold and dive

Head first to the river as if it were Guatavita

And I'm searching for something

Oh just something strong enough

To peel the daggers from my eyes