The Procession / Furrows

The procession passed by this place today again
At the crack of dawn
Splitting veil of still air like a cloth rag torn
And then left aside

All positions firmly held
Columns and lines
Moved as one towards the night
And away from me

All the things I said, all to myself, surrounding
A lour shell of white, to the leaves in the breeze, announcing

I don't believe they saw me as I lay there and watched
Covert by the maple in my little dale
It's still unclear whether that's what I wanted
But I turned around, tore a bit of loose bark and went back to sleep

(All the things I held, all to myself) Turned to this fungal tapestry
Lain outstretched across the field
(All the things I held, all to myself) Turned to this fungal tapestry
Lain outstretched across the field

Rainfall furrowing the dirt
Boots that marched across the marsh
Every mould and moss is equal to them now
And they sneer and laugh as they watch

It's calm and it's clear
Nothing moves but the wind and the birds
And a few things grazing, grazing
Holding on to my claim with all I've left



Credits
Writer(s): Will Wasem
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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