End of Days

Where great appetites come to feast
Where women and beast make peacefully in sacrifice
No flesh is wasted
No rest for the young who sinfully free
Are forced to work
And no place for old men, but home
A child has come to be born
Where the wanderer comes to seat
Where we must know ourselves
In falsehood and in truth
And minds come finally to seat
Where the rotted fruits have passed
Dark hills on promised land
A child is born
Consumes itself away
Into decay and to decay
Where strangers at the end of days
Come to meet an honest fate
Where, home
Green glows the sky
In jealous promise and tempered artifice
Green the grasses
Who sacrificed their flowers at first gust
Gentle tides, children come and go
To count the hours
Aged things grow young beneath skin
In outgrown glens
Bowed heads see futures in points of the needle
The demon with two heads
Does not know it from itself
Consumes itself away
Into decay and to decay
Where great appetites come to feast
A purge of mutant fishes rots upon the surface
Where the wanderer comes to rest
Where lonely strangers come to beach at the end of days
Everything possible is building, building, building
A vision of an Tuatha
From the bed
Comes a singing army
From the head of the ragged cliffs
Where I can see America
And everything is possible
At Moher
Or seems like possibility
Because the crest of a wave
Untouched is then unmade
From across the beach
Of mist and stony desert vision
The beautiful things ascend and descend
In heart bending rhythms
The phantom isle it shows
And my heart is breaking open
The unit will be unified again
Everything possible is building, building
A child is born
With oily wings and discarded wishes on her skin
A deity
We must know what this means
From the sea a boiling wave would clean
The demon’s face
If that is what it be
The child - a beast
It walks and talks and bleeds for us
These times are streaked with the blood of children
The unit will be unified again
And everything possible is building, building
Where the wanderer comes to seat
Where lonely strangers at the end of days
Come to meet their fate
And minds come finally to a seat
Everything possible is building, building, building
Everything possible is building