Lion - Peter Murphy

Toward the leafs

Scattered brushed

Long brown leadened

Swirl of haze trodden

The spring garden

Merges with

Merges down

With the forgotten

Flowers, fawn, shadows mere

On a puppet horizon

We want that lion

On our skin

The best of the set we think we’ve gotten

As if we possess

That we would rise

To a Master’s height

A worse sublime

When the tattooist claws in

And starts his trace

We grimacing and cry «foul»

Save only the lion’s tail

The pain of imprint not what we thought

The lion safe from knotted claws

Is not what we’ve forgotten

Towards that wall

Of scattered brush

Long and proud

Forgotten

Swirl of haze

Swirl of trust

The spring garden

That we’ve trodden

Flowers, fawn, shadows mere

On a puppet horizon

We want that lion traced on our skin

The best of set we think we’ve gotten