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They Returned To Their Earth (For My Christ Thorn
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They return to their Earth For Christine When serpents come They cover the Christ thorn Two heads and c*ck heads Serpents feet of emotion Lidded eyes and smudged reality Everything has two faces One is earthly without true form The other blackened and blackening And mother is in the fields Father is in the fields You know well its tortured form It's locked within a particular place It's locked within a particular form It's jailed by a falling light With angles, shapes, and size It's held by to what It's held in through place It's an aim that has no name And mother is in the fields Father is in the fields It's a form creating formless Formless creating form Oh, four towers reaping backwards Do not spell their sound Do not move to their lies Speak the words and they create the universe And they destroy all universe And mother sleeps in the fields Father. he reaps in the fields! Heavy-lidded eyes do not mask his pain Hey shade us from the burning light Listen; one face, one form, one truth I see it through the shading glass I see it fractured in the world This is not true It's appearance only And mother is in the fields Father is in the fields An eagle flies above the skies Behind bloody claws; behind bloody cause His pain is blackened rain His rain is Roman Sire, the pain, it is not finished It happens now Matchstick man in a matchstick world Make the prime slice the sickle Make the sickle slice the core Time stops when he was thirty-three And mother is in the fields Father is in the fields Time stops when I am thirty Time stops there and time stops then Then is now Oh, why do we not see it? Time stops, time breaks, time folds Time ceases; the pestle grinds the mortar The mortar turns to dust The metal turns to rust Words, they fail, they fall apart The corn, it dies and is reborn! And mother stays in the fields Father is in the fields Blonde hair moves in the blonde corn Boyd wears black, he talks of death But all his faces spell out light Michael's on the roof He's kissing a rose A blood drops come from the heart of her life Something hangs above there in the skies Something hovers above his brown hair Life alas, in the background of light And the birds don't sing When the curtain snaps Anita's in Ireland She's falling over rocks Stars of the sky, stars of the pain And all stars meet in a falling star And some make money from weapons' blood And some make money from fear's blood And some make money from hunger's blood And some make money from politics' blood And some make money from religion's blood The world falls apart The world starts to cease And mother is in the fields Father has died in the fields
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