Dancing shadows to the music of the wind
A Rose in death throes on her chest pinned
Bent with reason he twisted with hope
Was a dark season to cope with a rope
Dank the morn that broke or’ the moor
Where sheep were shorn naked as the poor
In ranker to mourn the beheading of the corn
Where seeds unborn from the womb are torn
Black are the deeds that sprout these seeds
parted from weeds where roots of anger bleeds
Snatch the ring of brass, before it does pass
In shoes of broken glass, with a smile dance a waltz of class