The Man-Eating Tree - This Longitude of Sleep

In these eastern parts of a war,
As threats drifting with days
Built up like clouds meant
To shroud all light - But this one here.
But as threats,
They never had much
Of a real thunder to them.
In the parts untouched by the war
The same threats
- Like rafts of birds -
Would swing and buffet
Sideways and through the
Clouds meant to shroud all light
- But this one here.
But as threats, they never had much
Of a real thunder to them.

As fire brigades
Continue to take on
The furnace outside,
We would swing through
And down again
Like those damned birds
Through any joys
In this
Bloody mess of black
And then back down again.

While you were asleep
I left the house
With a burning ghost on my heels
To chase down the clouds meant
To shroud all light - But this one here