he crouches on the floor there''s a mask on the wall 
and he leafs through the pages of a book 
but wait as he may in the shadow of other leaves 
his heart in embraces to times long since scorched 

the horizon folds over with a purple sunrise 
and the wind carries smoke from an earth that is burning 
the smoke locks in his hair and he''s covered with patterns 
and the descent of his life-trees on his camouflaged soul 

with a winter of memories carved powder-bone white 
beyond his skull''s form a scorpion lies 
in the [bad word] of the snow as his darkness increases 
a twilight of ice encircles his teeth 

this is a song for douglas after he''s dead 
this is a song for douglas whose Mercury dances 

there''s a swastika carved in the palm of his hand 
there''s a crooked cross that is caught in his eyes 
there waits a falling sun in his eyes 
there''s the honour of violence on his lips 

his father waits for him near the Towers of Silence 
where they worship the fires so long quenched 
under two willow trees with elhaz inverted 
the fork of life snapped - 
there father and son shall mingle in dust 
as if life itself has been mostly illusion but partially real 
and partially pain 

and over some wall 
if you look through [bad word] 
 [bad word] of churches where life conquers death 
though empires cannot last 
where blood and soil''s concepts have faltered and failed 
a cloud still sows teeth 
as the world disappears... 

this is a song for Douglas after he''s dead 
this is a song for my Douglas may his Mercury dance