The Mortality of Doves Lyrics

I.
Every angel that drips from the faucet into the sink
Tumbles down the drain
And deep into the ground
The choirs resound in an empty room as
Angels seep into the earth
And no one noticed this coffin heaving
These earthen boards thick with deceiving
Every
Every angel
that drips
from the faucet
in
to the sink
Tumbles down
down the drain
And deep into the ground
The choirs resound in
resound in an empty room
as Angels seep into the earth
And no
And no one
no one noticed this coffin heaving
These earthen boards thick
Thick with deceiving
And
And it swallowed
Up
Up the spirit
In the mire
Of division
As man
As mankind
Looked on and glutted itself
Upon derision trampled underfoot
The seeping of the soil
As man
As mankind
looked on and grumbled ever
Louder with the toil of every day and every year
And every century
And it swallowed up the spirit
In the mire of division
As mankind looked on and
Glutted itself upon derision
Trampled underfoot, the seeping of the soil
As mankind looked on and grumbled
Ever louder with the toil
Of every day and every year
And every century
Lost in thought
Or thought is lost
On the creeping multitude of heaven
They could never see beyond
And so there was nothing beyond to see
One after the next for ever and ever
Stepping over the statues of gods
Lying broken in the streets like tyrants
II.
The cynical heart too oft forgot
Its blood in course of vein
As circulated phantoms drain from
Spout to sink to silence
And vigilance betrayed by neglect
But uttered not in defiance
Sleep, the uncloaked sleep of doves
In mortality
Drawing down the shade of years
Over the monstrosity
Shutting the lids and shutting the sight
Bridging the break and shunning the life
The Earth entire has become a wasteland
A marsh intense, a swamp of flatland
Not so flat as desolate
And deep with poison and with regret
I cry aloud as I am pull’d beneath
And a body hangs over the shower rod
Like a towel left out to dry
Drips call out their protest to a dark and empty room
Sadness decorates the silence
As a gathering of the gloom
My cries are the echoes of a long-lost suicide
An angel bleeding out, a dove that has died