How beautiful and unexpected it was
 To wake and see the snow
 Butterflying in through the open window,
 Sand-dune drifting towards his feet,
 Blanketing his room
 Covering his heirlooms
 And scattened things, all smashed up and sad
 He felt so glad that they were gone
 But still there beneath the snow.

 With Macbeth's clay-red arm around his neck,
 He said- ' remember...don't forget where you are...
 you're with me-'
 His clay-red arm like the muddy river
 That rambles through the reeking town
 Reaching for the sea.

 Macbeth's head
Full of clover and the town below
 Unaware of the time and the silent snow.
 Macbeth's head
 Full of barking dogs
 The churis in rags, their cloaks
 The heads of stags clashing antlers...
 Their cloaks billowing down
The silvery hills of sleep.

Macbeth's head
 Blows a silver horn of dented stars
 Across the misty heath
 But, [bad word] back' he couldn't say.
 Macbeth's head
 In the emerald eyes of dark women
 Barefoot on the wharf,
 The north winds sing-song singing
 Through the gorse.
 Macbeth's head
 Down in the streets below
 Blissfully unaware of the virgin snow
 His purple tongue locked inside his mouth
 Shouting [bad word] at the cloads
 And a voice echoes through the landslide town
 Beneath the bracelet bridge...
 Macbeth's arm tenses round his neck-
 Don't forget, don't forget.
 Macbeth's head
 Full of the smell of stone.
 Falls from the satin sky
 His closed eyes
 His eyelids open...
 Macbeth's arm tenses round his neck-
 ...Don't forget.,
 Don't forget.

 And how beautiful and unexpected it was
 To wake and see the snow.