Who will resurrect us? Jive, ass and teeth
That I might live and mean it like the lion means to kill
A ghostly blight from godless eyes, the howling flames of our design
Now the sky, a fiend of fire, the season's tears to ancient wine
Mrs. Amelia Underwood, carry my heart in your hand
The details will haunt us in strange ways
Jesus will shine on you brightly, into the hollow lands
Ripened too quickly into rot and fallen on this stinking spot
Wearing the joy and the sorrow like beautiful fall pained leaves
Tones of history ring here like a gong but the pitch is bent and queer
Upon a beach of bones the iron orchid stands
Once we've all drunk all our fill of fire
Used to be time was upon us, carried our hearts on our sleeves
Mrs. Amelia Underwood, carry my heart in your hand
In the lion all desire and prayer is one
That never really make a soul
A faint sadness hangs about the trees as if our life and times were fruit
For the pleasure games we play so easily
Like snow and smoke and skeletal leaves
And casts her cobalt gaze across the years
