---

A Flickering Wick

All that I know

Came to me under black cloud

Whispering under silent shroud

Gathered at the stone

The quickening of fools gold

The alchemy of salt and soul

Blackened is the meadow

The thickening of time and pace

In treacle my torment we wade

All in my time

I’ve seen continents divide and rage

From sapling to great oak to grave

Now they worship machines

Now they worship machines

But they will not outlive me.

But they will not outlive me.