lyrics
She rode a pale horse for five days straight,
Up a mountainside to a frozen lake,
And the sun moved west through East,
Giving rest to all beneath.
She took a knife to start a flame,
And drew the fire from her vein,
And the blood fell drop by drop,
Staining the ashes on the mountain top.
She went, to find, the world, was blind, and prayed, to he, who let, her see.
She spoke a line, they sang a verse,
The litany became a dirge,
The priest cried on rhyme by rhyme,
Drunk and sad on Eucharist wine.
The glass above was cracked and stained,
The awning red and the sacred reign,
Hung above from a plastic cross,
The wooden one had begun to rot.
On the seventh day upon her climb,
She lost all sense of space and time,
There was black and nothing more,
Than the sound of hooves on the frozen floor.
And from the void there came a word,
And the voice was blessed, and the word was sure,
And the floods came drop by drop,
And swept the ashes from the mountain top.
We sheltered and we stopped, we learned what had been lost, we sheltered, and we watched, we learned that all was dust.
Dust from dust.
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