Drawn out like a neck
Sweet masseuse of rope, and repeating
Jamming cogs that form a threadbare noose
Start-stop, start-stop, dangling
Twitching, trapdoor springboard
Thermopylae's a broken record
I've got both lens and the audience to fight
You can spin the reel however you like
But the Spartans always die at the end of the film
Clawing hands of tar
Discordant klaxons screaming bloody murder
It beggars belief, but believe me
We've nearly even scratched the surface