Current 93 - A Column Of Dust

Up in the Ferris wheel
The soft swan wheels
And in the soft sea
The soft sea sleeps
I misheard
Not a rabid star
But the dream of plane crash steep
Fall, she span, ah
Over there, behind you
There is a sharp well
And deep into her
Fall, a column of dust
And that last grey face
Steals into the world
With the skip of a snake
And hissing behind
Comes the final express train
And if in that city That's set upon a hill
If a shadow appears
By your pantry; it's the godhead
And the noise in your eyes
Whom has the rumours of wings
And the fly and the hornet
From the scorpion rainbow
In the time it shook
Your eyes to shoot
Kisses to the starlings
Well, in digits quick and late in hate
Which shine bright on your plate
The silver is mist and mischief and chokes the silver note
And sweeps into the sleep
Come quickly, Lord Jesus
With your word and your sword
On the lion at bay
On the donkey and the dray
Drink dark those low skies you made
By broken dogs, the Aleph awaits
And awakes in his eye
Vengeance in his eye
"I am the lord, the killer, and the creator"
As kind as the night
And as near as the day
And as new in the mouth
In the tongue of the dog
And as deep in the heart
As the leap of the goat
As dark in the cat
As the skip of the branch