Trolls And Bridges

Who is the troll at the top of the hill?
The one that says won't or the one that says will?

We sing to the demons,
we tremble and sing
the song is the singing
the song is the thing:

Ashes to smashes
To dusky to dust
All bodies bumble on up from the crust,

Ashes to smashes
To dusky to dust
Nethers have feathers and fly when they thrust

Everything’s rooted in earth, don’t you see?
‘Cept him and cept her and cept you and cept me

We are the flotsam, the bits and the dross
We are the ones left behind at the cross

Dropped from the heavens and pale as a pike
Ripe for the beating, the lash and the strike

Sore cut flanks, tender footed – skin thin as lettuce
Eyes big as onions but where does it get us?

Ashes to smashes
To booncocks and brine
Eight follows seven and seven ate nine

Ashes to smashes
To booncocks and brack
Wine turns to water and never turns back

Just like the spider that thinks it’s a flower
A crack in the mind will hold perilous power

We reach and we listen – we wade through the years
We hear the dead voices that no one else hears

We see what we see when we see in the dark
Our dream-conjured company, black as wet bark.

Ashes to smashes
To dusky til dust
Stacked up and smacked up and cracked up with lust

Ashes to smashes
To dusky til dust...
God’s golden blessings
are covered in rust.