Текст песни All Souls

A carnival, a flesh farewell Hiessens rising from the, from the dead Wyman-Elvis, calls our girl And counts the ash to where, to where he bled One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight At the first, a crimson mist At the second, sleeplessness At the third, a broken tryst At the fourth, a lonesomeness Gawly the sweethearts leaves The soldier's tears The Riddle river grieves Wyman-Elvis disappears Only in a scrid of flesh Hooked upon the hart's-tongue fern Only by her own gooseflesh Knows she somewhen he'll return