Behind the earth, a dark meridian Lines drawn, final parallax Tendons pull and then relax Fingers crawl towards the palm A ripple, and a shudder From the curdling sky to the bowels of the world Whales are wrecked on starless beaches, the moon draws blood in the farthest reaches Child bones knock in sunken wells, responding to a silent command I know thee of old - fought and repelled in endless cold I know thee of old - praised and gave succour in mud and in mould As you made the world - a victim... I sense your hands in the very atoms - these are the hands that pluck Those are the chains that bind, ours are the fires that die Snuffed by the folding night - theirs are the hands that pluck Theirs are the lanterns that hang - lifeless in the dark Theirs are the seven heads that go hooded in the light Theirs are the seven heads that go hooded in the light Behind our birth, daggers obsidian Strings vibrate, worlds wane and wax: tendons pull and then relax Fingers crawl towards the palm Those furthest from danger are closest to harm You have broken me, seen the dark in me Long have I loved I know thee of old Long have I served I know thee of oldTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
