A Song for Douglas After He’s Dead Current 93

He crouches on the floor
There's a mask on the wall
And he leafs through the pages of a book
But wait as he may in the shadow of other leaves
His heart in embraces to times long since scorched

The horizon folds over with a purple sunrise
And the wind carries smoke from a world that is burning
The smoke locks in his hair and he's covered with patterns
And the descent of life-trees on his camouflaged soul
With a winter of memories carved powder-bone white
Beyond his skull's form a scorpion lies
In the crunch of the snow as his darkness increases
A twilight of ice encircles his teeth

This is a song for Douglas
After he's dead
This is a song for Douglas
His Mercury dances

There's a swastika carved
In the palm of his hand
There's a crooked cross
That is caught in his mind
There waits a failing sun in his eyes
There's the honor of violence oh his lips