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 an earth that is burning the smoke locks in his hair and he''s covered with patterns and the descent of his 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 whose Mercury dances
there''s a swastika carved in the palm of his hand there''s a crooked cross that is caught in his eyes 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 quenched under two willow trees with elhaz inverted the fork of life snapped - there father and son shall mingle in dust as if life itself has 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 cannot 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 may his Mercury dance