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The black figure of my body above your window as you're dreamin' |
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I came to wake you and take you up north |
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The yard was wet, the heavens forget the way things are seemin' |
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For us who must stumble in yards dark as horses |
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Your dream went like this, John the Baptist came back vapor veiled |
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With grand expectations for what he had started |
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And you couldn't resist, you gave him the gist about how things failed |
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And how all but one fire-heart had departed |
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And that you were her, and you were sure |
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That you had the Blood, that you had the Blood |
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That all is made of |
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And that is alright, that is alright |
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I can't think of a better dove |
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To carry the Blood |
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The canal was bright, its innards ignite when moon stretches tight |
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To show the cargo the floating is gliding |
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The edges are dark, it's channeled by bark, it carries the mark |
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Of every speckle of guilt I was hiding |
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The bathroom does taste of menstruation chasing night-musk through window screen |
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Like wounded doves all pretty things bleed |
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Like my highway dream, Judas redeemed for the one kiss he rode on |
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Our spirits ride canals and never in deeds |
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Deeds do go, and deeds do not |
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Carry the Blood, carry the Blood |
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That all is made of |
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Carry it right, all through the night |
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Till you see what we are of |
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A dove that carries the Blood |
