The Inmost Night

And I drown a little more every day The wind blows so slowly now The tees are dry dead Walls to me they cannot hold back the storm any longer It will bread around us first If there's a god If there's a God When I stand there at the piled bloodcamp, Again I flick open the inner eye If You too open Your eyes You shall see The entire sky filled with weeping angels The entire heaven filled with weeping angels And the Central Sun and sum of all God too weeping We shall be judged So, anyway, so Your garden is most fullgreen And the manybirds alight on its budding branches And anyway, the lambs gambol And the children sing -- Yours perhaps Or mine: god And anyway So anyway: we fall beneath the waves And hope to be remembered anyway Anyway; the bluebirds wait over the white cliffs of Dover So anyway; they to fall. The grass dies, the moss goes, the chalk chips away Then below that the rocks grain away (This is the sound of the earth dying. So nothing new. So, anyway) You may wait under a tree Or at the foot of a hill Anyway

Track appears on: All The Pretty Little Horses (The Inmost Light) LP/CD (1996)