FOUND WORK WITH A TRAVELING CARNIVAL, and for the Midsummer Festival in Crown City, our games and rides were set up right in the middle of the Square, beneath the Angels. One night, amid the noise and confusion of the crowded midway, I saw a man working with wires and wooden barrels. He stood and turned – the Anarchist! – holding a clockwork detonator in his hand. I called out to warn the crowd, then suddenly he threw the device at me, and I caught it automatically – just as the people turned to look my way.
I escaped, but in disgrace, and fled down the Winding Pinion River to the sea.
Under the gaze of the angels
A spectacle like he’s never seen
Spinning lights and faces
Demon music and gypsy queens
The glint of iron wheels
Bodies spin in a clockwork dance
The smell of flint and steel
A wheel of fate, a game of chance
How I prayed just to get away
To carry me anywhere
Sometimes the angels punish us
By answering our prayers
A face of naked evil
Turns the young boy’s blood to ice
Deadly confrontation
Such a dangerous device
Shout to warn the crowd
Accusations ringing loud
A ticking box, in the hand of the innocent
The angry crowd moves toward him
with bad intent