A Song For Douglas After He´s Dead

He crouches on the floor, there's a mask on the wall
 And he leafs through the pages of a book
 But wait as he may in the shadow of other leaves
 His heart in embraces to times long since scorched
 The horizon folds over with a purple sunrise
 ♪
 And the wind carries smoke from a world that is burning
 The smoke clogs in his hair and he's covered with patterns
 And a decent of life-trees on his camouflaged soul
 With a winter of memories, carved powder-bone white
 Beyond his skull's form, a scorpion lies
 In the crunch of the snow, as his darkness increases
 A twilight of ice encircles his teeth
 This is a song for Douglas
 After he's dead
 This is a song for Douglas
 His mercury dances
 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
 There waits a falling sun in his eyes
 There's the honour of violence on his lips
 His father waits for him near the towers of silence
 Where they worship the fires, so long ago quenched
 Under two willow trees with Elhaz inverted, the fork of life snapped
 There, father and son will mingle in dust
 As if life itself had been mostly illusion, but partially real
 And partially pain
 ♪
 And over some wall, if you look through the rubble
 Amongst ruins of churches, where life conquers death
 Though empires can not last
 Where blood and soil's concepts have faltered and failed
 A cloud still sows teeth
 As the world disappears
 ♪
 This is a song for Douglas
 After he's dead
 This is a song for my Douglas
 His mercury dances