Secrets Of The Beehive I

Secrets Of The Beehive I

The Devils own

The night is dark and cold
The strong winds and the rain
Crack the branches up on my window
The Devil beats his drum
Casting out a spell
Dragging all his own down into hell.

The ticking of a clock
Inexorably goes on
The howling of the stray souls of heaven
The treasures of the cove
Where the traders stored there gold
Echo voices still dead to the world

Underneath the vine
Shaded by the leaves
I still hold you close, to me
Beneath the open stars
Beneath the pillows and the sheets
I still hold you dear, to me

The ticking of the clock
Surely Sunrise won’t be long
When darkness hides inside it’s own shadow
The Devil beats his drum
Casting out his name
Dragging all his own, down into shame.

David Sylvian

(Secrets Of The beehive) I

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