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ships out within 3 days
Keyless, I locked my hands away, away from their arms.
But they've returned upon wild heat, like greyhounds begging for scratchings of meat.
And the court is heaving like the wild roots, crawling down the witches willow.
I remember I heard her laugh one time in the trees,
When her roots pulled me through the ground, to join her at her table.
Covered in the darkest dirt I've ever seen on platters,
Below a ceiling which rained more down on our heads,
(and) I remembered when we used to play inside her castle, 40 feet above.
The graves are walking from the hills beneath recoiling clouds.
When the ghosts and the dead voices come out of the stones the kids get the fear of God.
They keep their candles burning, I keep mine burning too, below anyone's gaze.
Hear the pork grind off the moss, feel the danger but embrace the fear,
Lick the flint which splits the meat, like the way it always was will be.
This is what we've waited for, my friends, this is why we tuned our virginals.
This is why we lay in the mountains, is it not?