In shackles and chains
Fate had sentenced you
Your crime was misfortune
Your friends were nothing more than vapors
When they condemned you
The Devil had summoned you
Through the mouths of others
Fear became your final solution
When midnight thundered in the village
You gave your soul away
Then as they slithered close to you
Hate drew its black battle lines
With the losers staring each other in the eyes
And bloody tears trailed down your face
While the remaining fragments of your soul were being washed away
Maybe they should have stopped it sooner
As the devil smiled across your face
And with the cold gentle kiss of death
Your soul became black tuffs of smoke
And the Banshee came for your remains
The songs and art in this book are about our collective emergence after the pandemic and trauma of the last few years - comprised of 5 collections: World as Refuge, Where We Live, In Our Hands, Rhythms of Change and What We See & Sow.
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