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In others' mouths the scraping of rocks, who walk a rope |
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Run along the ground Into the basket |
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Whither the sky is fatted with ice, come as the earth grows |
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Richer of blood - The doe is in season |
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We pull our teeth out laying down in easy places we |
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Thicken the air with talk but cover our eyes up with our hands |
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They're shooting the wolves from helicopters can you believe that |
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Out in the wide world the wildest ones are vanishing quickly |
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Out in the wood a passing of hours, in the jailhouse of limb |
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A passing of years Into the casket |
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I will not crouch polluted with law, |
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No traitor to witch no traitor to wolf |
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Judas Iscariot |
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Now the white wool has twisted round the land, |
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The cowering altar and matricide borne. |
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The stones they are screaming |
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I could call them men but they are not |
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Men, faces like blood rags, yet |
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Dressed to the fines. |
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Chariots surround us |
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But it won't be the |
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Witches that are |
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Burning this time |
