Radio Dreams

A fascinating change of pace
A Fascist with a name of Grace
The same old place where we have chased
The traces of the face of hate. . .

In the end, the innuendo
Is all but out the window
So let me dash and flash my pass
So we can get harassed

Do you hear the bells cling?
Do you see the fountain sing?
Do you smell the mountain spring?
Do you taste the diamond ring?