One thousand ploughs my heart Grind on my spine Fields of flowers sun embraced Broken by the driven mass Smiling faces, laughing child No suffering from your infection Fir eyour arms from point blank range The circle is now complete The things done with eyes of one Speak of those with forked tongue Catch the words with molten ears Let them flee rearranged Swallow your seeds in trust of you Ripped by the thorns of the growing flower You build your throne on tiny straws Straws you took from other nests The god inside sees no wrong The geo is satisfied
straw, eyour, geo, flower, plough