Shovels high, shovels low,
Shovels high, shovels low.
Spotlight shines down below,
The tombstone, Jon Doe.
Never lie, never lie,
The shovels
high.
Reveries and fog,
earth and metal claws.
Secrets never show,
in Union, the graveyard
on a
hill.
Never show, never show,
the shovels
low.
A mechanical motion
that chews away.
in One,
in Two,
in Three...
They drip in sweat, fear,
feed the dirt, worms.
the Four,
the Five,
the Six.
Rotted wood exposed,
a heave and a pry
reveals the product,
the vessel, Paradise.
A channel opens,
speaks of life,
breathes the Carrier:
An exhale
of secrets and demons,
of amnesia
eternal,
and artificial
purpose.
