The Long Sleep
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The harrows grow on the rose hip
Worn down in the yoke is the ox
Like labial traces fading
Like a laugh in the face of god
And never see this place again
All liabilities are leaving my soul
Feel it call you out of your chambers
Your ordeal is a wreath made of ash
Like rivers that flow through the moon fields
Like snakes in the stall of a child
And never see this place again
All colonnades are falling into darkness
Architect delusive
Fiend and companion
Flame is your pennant
Fire is our death, our death, our death
You left us no traces
Left us all alone
We thank you and despair
In your sleep
In your mind
Cross the road to heaven
Death is holy
Let your blood mark the way
And the days
Deserve to die
Feel the ardor embrace you
Death is holy
And we are alone, we are alone