The Darkness Will Understand

In the bed I do not rely on commandments The roses already fraught with wind How many clocks do you ask While the morning overladen with eternity is late Delirium morning They foresee the end of the world Through star gates They will wish to open them, open them they will not be able to They will wish to close both them and the road The poems shall herald the dead The dead and the living will depart for false mouth Without a single sense My God sleeps murmuring prayers After which I inherit sadness, wind, mountains, birds Yet hands and bole resist I do not fear bullets And horseman of the apocalypse But you My beloved Father