They Return To Their Earth

When serpents come
 They cover the Christ thorn
 Two heads
 And cock 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 true what
 It's held in through place
 It's an aim that has no name
 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 the sound
 Do not move to the lies
 Speak the words and they create the universe
 And they destroy all universe
 Mother sleeps in the fields
 And father he reaps in the fields
 Heavy-lidded eyes do not mask his pain
 They 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
 Mother is in the fields
 Father is in the fields
 An eagle flies his bloody face
 Behind bloody claws behind bloody claws
 His pain is blackened rain
 His rain is Roman
 Sire the pain it is not finished
 I happens now
 Matchstick man in a matchstick world
 Nake the prime slice the sickle
 Nake the sickle slice the core
 Time stops when he was thirty-three
 And mother is in the fields
 And father is in the fields
 Time stops when i am thirty
 Time stops then and time stops there
 Then is now
 Oh why do we not say it
 Time stops time breaks time folds
 Time ceases
 And pestle grindes 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
 And father is in the fields
 Blond hair moves in the blond corn
 Boyd wears black he talks of death
 But all his faces spell out light's on the roof
 He's kissing a rose
 A blooddrop comes from the heart of her life
 Something hangs above there in the skies
 Something hovers above his brown hair
 Life without us 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
 And father has died in the fields