A Pallbearer's Gloom کے بول

My fingers are thrones Thorns where the roots clog Perfectly formless Clasping a bamboo prison A sad majesty In a subatomic red caress In a calligraphy of skin Vespers and incense Howling through our lungs Like a lascivious meridian When soft the holy water fell Except it didn't A mardi gras of lament Sixteen hands high Fifteen coins tall Sixteen hands high Fifteen coins tall For the watchers at the palace At the tiger mandible banquet A wreath in the gloaming Lies like birds swarm A sad majesty In a subatomic red caress In a calligraphy of skin From their mouths "o' jerusalem We remain unuttered" But their cries Mote the mountains groaning And we carry a pallbearer's gloom For all the saints in the sun can't save us now...