Paroles de Fields

The innermost music of Blood Decomposes - morbidity and stink Yammering floats its wrack Above wide fields The old province gets filled up Thought becomes a statue It survives on a whole lotta dream As it just got torn Despite my blindness sometimes I see: That blue songs tinkle Hump-backed Calmness The mourning march passing away their well-deep eyes: dim and grim With cryptic faces ANd they're sprinkling the dust On the Sea - Field gravel