Imagine the beast, its number
faded like a stick-on tattoo
Each horn droops
10 heads hang heavy,
the swayback whore bleeds for
the cup, each drop falls slow
as dust to dust
the rivers run with black gore
to the sea
The locusts form
in choking swarms
4 figures dance in twister flames:
mene mene
scorch-marks burn
in flowing scripture
on the sands
The sac of heaven
bursts and darkness pours
down every throat while angels fall
in stuka strikes
on swallowed souls
eloi eloi
the flesh is weak
and torn in two
the curtain falls
while deep lots cast in shadow fall
to valleys far below
faded like a stick-on tattoo
Each horn droops
10 heads hang heavy,
the swayback whore bleeds for
the cup, each drop falls slow
as dust to dust
the rivers run with black gore
to the sea
The locusts form
in choking swarms
4 figures dance in twister flames:
mene mene
scorch-marks burn
in flowing scripture
on the sands
The sac of heaven
bursts and darkness pours
down every throat while angels fall
in stuka strikes
on swallowed souls
eloi eloi
the flesh is weak
and torn in two
the curtain falls
while deep lots cast in shadow fall
to valleys far below
who are you and what have you done with peter? blimey, peter, you have a really massive...hinterland. Whereas i, on the other hand, have a small back yard. as usual, I'm a newbie and behind you at this lark. wish i'd discovered your blog ages ago!