song profile

When the Earth turns to salt, and the magpie crows
And the loom spins a venomous thread
When smoke rises from blue chasms below
Where heavy hooded animals tread
When the evening sky like a trumpet unfurls
Circus colors of orange, red and gold
And the sea’s finest vessel finally runs her aground
And over each face a mantle of snow
When the snail arches back in a delicate wail
When the husks from the seeds fall away
When an ear to the ground and a heavy hand alike
Are deaf to the full tree’s sway

         I will come
         I will come
         I will come