Time travel, the avant-garde, sex and ancient Rome
I was walking down a road towards a lighthouse in Japan
When I passed a man wearing the mask of a black horse
And followed him astonished to an old abandoned fort
A group of alien immigrants had pitched their camp up there
Playing wild guitars and making images with fire
Hiding their identities with fur and wood and glue
Each wore a mask of Bebko and now I wear one too

The man wearing the horse mask really frightened me
I sensed that he was luring me to a place I shouldn't be
And then down by a rockpool, as I walked back to the shore
I glimpsed my own reflection and the horse's head I wore
I understand the whole thing now but it's too late for me
Never play with aliens or with your identity
I tell you this to save you, if you know what's good for you
Shun the masks of Bebko, or you will wear one too