Foxglove

The land that withers

Covered in snow
The hands of lovers
That part in faint glow
Desperately needed keys
That have fallen to the ground
The piano singing with ease
Lost in chaotic sound
The blind, lame horse
That today meets it's fate
The black, haunting hearse
That arrived ten minutes late
The far away songs
You wish you could hear
The man recounting wrongs
With porno and beer
The hate in a woman
For everything new
The swindler with folded hands
Who laughs in the pew
Those who can hear
Those who drown out
The end that draws near
A famine, a drought