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Tales Of Their Passing
The wind wields a mighty comb
And nothing hides in the underbrush
The wind wields a mighty comb
Fallen leaves will rise and walk
Wrappers reveal their pregnancies
All vessels will loose their hallowed lids
Over blessings or their secret horrors
That was how we read our stories
Sealed under the roof of our tongues
Hammered down by the General's rules
With bolts of blood and fired screws
Who can forget the tales of their passing
The fire wood bundles of all our agonies
In mountain ranges at the public squares
Waiting for the flare to raze all woes
In mountain ranges at the public squares...
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