from Worn to the Weft

Poor Tom eats the swimming frog
The fury in his heart is blind and burrowing
The foul fiend eats the beetle wing
The lovely lady sings and howls him back to sleep

While the old rat and the ditch dog drink
From standing pools of spirit queens, ooh.

The common seer, dead so many years
The cheap trick auctioneers invest their innocence
The sickness spreads, swims with fins of lead
Poor wretches that depend on constant gathering

While the old rat and the ditch dog drink
From their swimming pools with diamond clinks, ooh.