they returned to their earth

		when serpents come
		they cover the Christ thorn
		two heads
		and cock heads
		serpents feet of emotion
		lidded eyes and smudged reality
		everything has two faces
		one is earthly without true form
		the other blackened and blackening 

		and mother is in the fields
		father is in the fields 

		you know well its tortured form
		it's locked within a particular place
		it's locked within a particular form
		it's jailed by a falling light
		with angles shapes and size
		it's held by true what
		it's held in through place
		it's an aim that has no name 
		
		mother is in the fields
		father is in the fields 
		
		it's a form creating formless
		formless creating form
		oh four towers reaping backwards
		do not spell the sound
		do not move to the lies
		speak the words and they create the universe
		and they destroy all universe 
		
		mother sleeps in the fields
		and father he reaps in the fields 
		
		heavy-lidded eyes do not mask his pain
		they shade us from the burning light
		listen one face one form one truth
		i see it through the shading glass
		i see it fractured in the world
		this is not true
		it's appearance only 
		
		mother is in the fields
		father is in the fields 
		
		an eagle flies his bloody face
		behind bloody claws behind bloody claws
		his pain is blackened rain
		his rain is Roman
		sire the pain it is not finished
		i happens now
		matchstick man in a matchstick world
		nake the prime slice the sickle
		nake the sickle slice the core
		time stops when he was thirty-three
		
		and mother is in the fields
		and father is in the fields
		
		time stops when i am thirty
		time stops then and time stops there
		then is now
		oh why do we not say it
		time stops time breaks time folds
		time ceases
		and pestle grindes the mortar
		the mortar turns to dust
		the metal turns to rust
		words they fail they fall apart
		the corn it dies and is reborn 
		
		and mother stays in the fields
		and father is in the fields 
		
		blond hair moves in the blond corn
		Boyd wears black he talks of death
		but all his faces spell out light's on the roof
		he's kissing a rose
		a blooddrop comes from the heart of her life
		something hangs above there in the skies
		something hovers above his brown hair
		life without us in the background of light
		and the birds don't sing
		when the curtain snaps
		Anita's in Ireland
		she's falling over rocks
		stars of the sky stars of the pain
		and all stars meet in a falling star
		and some make money from weapons' blood
		and some make money from fear's blood
		and some make money from hunger's blood
		and some make money from politics' blood
		and some make money from religion's blood
		the world falls apart
		the world starts to cease 
		
		and mother is in the fields
		and father has died in the fields