in the garden - sons of perdition lyrics
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softly bedded down among crickets, beetles and worms
ah, not asleep, gone and not gone
clay turns to clay in the mouth of a skull
in a blanched jawbone; on clavicles like native flutes
gently moldering in silence, m*ffled with shovels of dirt
the animals know, the animals know
merciful time carefully rearranges the bones
the swelling seasons do disturb and put back into place
a hard rain on the roof of a grieving mourner’s shack
a hard rain on the roof of a house all draped in black
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