Bloody Hands

I can hear the owl

Stunted hands

Hissing quite slow

Across the frigid snows

And pictures of time

In an old woman's eye

Her hair is made of wood

And the moon beneath her feet

Barely awake on your snowy wings

This having stained your angel's hands

With my bloody hands

Your chest chills still haunt

The cells of my blood

And mingling stem frames

Are bold celluloid

To perch in the trees

And ram chimney tops

To burn away quite gradual

As wet morning fog

Barely awake on your snowy wings

This having stained your angel's hands

With my bloody hands

Barely awake on your snowy wings

This having stained your angel's hands

With my bloody hands

Barely awake on your snowy wings

This having stained your angel's hands

With my bloody hands