Virus Meadow

Rattled chime, slow ringing echo

Roll around in virus meadow

Suck enchanted nightshade twine

Hear the bells beneath us chime

Sinking sermon, priest head murmurs

Holy words across the meadows

Kissed the plagues' black rolling hand

Through his lips the virus sang

And the rooks, they seemed to follow him

Wherever he goes

Flapping in the flat sky

Shrieking in the spire

Hanging from the lead sky

Dangling from the sun

The rooks, they seemed to follow him

Wherever he goes

Nodding thistle, english sun dew

Swansneck woman, child-bed meadow

Aching shoulders sink and grow

As the bells from ditches toll

And the smeared skin wrapped limbs

Of the night brothers

Struggling.... crawling

Through the empty crack of morning

Of the night brothers...

Of the night brothers....