One thousand ploughs my heart

Grind on my spine

Fields of flowers sun embraced

Broken by the driven mass



Smiling faces, laughing child

No suffering from your infection

Fir eyour arms from point blank range

The circle is now complete



The things done with eyes of one

Speak of those with forked tongue

Catch the words with molten ears

Let them flee rearranged



Swallow your seeds in trust of you

Ripped by the thorns of the growing flower

You build your throne on tiny straws

Straws you took from other nests



The god inside sees no wrong

The geo is satisfied