Howlin Rain In Sand And Dirt
Down below the drift under the light of the cold moon
That shines like falling ice
Where the shake’s tales beat like drums against the earth
A low and mournful hymn
And the palm leaves hush the begging goats and pigs
Like a reassuring ghoul
There beats a new heart, in spice and soil
Ohhhhhh….the Damned moaned
Now time moves by the sons of the black birds
Like a choir of rabid hens
And the fallen sing with dark black eyes
That nearly tell their tale
Lost in the eddies of the slowest tides
Courting mournful tones
That cling to the narrow curves of our skulls
And guide us ever on…Ohhhhhh…the Damned moaned
Bring with you all of your songs, all of your death
dreams
Awaken all of your living bones to every living thing
Bring with you all of your drones, all of your gold
strings
And swing all of your bells for every living thing
Bring with you all of your songs, all of your death
dreams
