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A Song For Douglas After He's Dead
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1
He crouches on the floor, there's a mask on the wall
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And he leafs, through the pages of a book
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But wait as he may in the shadow of other leaves
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His heart, in embraces to times long since scorched
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The horizon folds over, with a purpose sun rise
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And the wind, carry smoke, from the world that is burning
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The smoke clogs in his hair, and he's covered with patterns
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And a decent, of life trees, on his camouflaged soul
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With a winter of memories, carved ponder bone white
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Beyond his sculls for, a scorpion lies
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In the crunch of the snow, as his darkness increases
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A twilight of ice, encircles his teeth
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This is a song for Douglas, after he's dead
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This is a song for Douglas, his mercury dances
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There's a swastika carved, in the palm of his hand
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There's a crooked cross, that is caught in his mind
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There waits a falling sun, in his eyes
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There's the honor, of violence, on his lips
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His father waits for him, in the towers of silence
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Where they worship the fires, so long ago quenched
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And the two willow trees, with el has inverted
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The fork of life snapped
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They are father and son
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So mingling dust, as if life itself, had been mostly illusion
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But parchly real
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And parchly pain
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And over some wall, if you look through ruble
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Amongst ruins of churches, where life conquers death
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Thou empires can not last, where blood and concepts
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The folted and failed
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A cloud still sow his teeth
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As the world disappears
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This is a song for Douglas, after he's dead
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This is a song for my Douglas, his mercury dances
Current 93 - Niemandswasser
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