Lyrics to All Souls
A carnival, a flesh farewell
Heissens rising from the dead
Wyman-Elvis! calls our gurrel
And counts the ash to where he bled:
At the first a crimson mist
At the second sleeplessness
At the third a broken tryst
At the fourth, Iwonesomeness
Gawly in the sweethearts leaves
Gawly in the soldier's tears
As the Riddle river grieves:
Wyman-Elvis disappears
Only in a scrid of flesh
Hooked upon the hart's-tongue fern
And only by her own gooseflesh
Knows she somewhen he'll return
Heissens rising from the dead
Wyman-Elvis! calls our gurrel
And counts the ash to where he bled:
At the first a crimson mist
At the second sleeplessness
At the third a broken tryst
At the fourth, Iwonesomeness
Gawly in the sweethearts leaves
Gawly in the soldier's tears
As the Riddle river grieves:
Wyman-Elvis disappears
Only in a scrid of flesh
Hooked upon the hart's-tongue fern
And only by her own gooseflesh
Knows she somewhen he'll return
