Lightening fires the ink and I will pen it once the barrels are crooked and the guns are down,

Fires in fields of green are our penitence, moulds of Pompeii in Arbor Town,

Darkened shutters and madmen's mutterings fill this valley of inns and gutters

And when the coal-blown twister comes punishing, Jesus will lead us to Jordan.

Empty bottle of liniment aniseed wormwood, sweet and green, on the floor.

Sunday comes like a rider of death with his x-ray vision and a forty-four.

We'll get high on the barrels of Spring as we swim in the cider mill, dream's length from anything,

And when the barrels of Bacchus we have emptied then Jesus will lead us to Jordan.

War is fought in everyone's hearts as we tip and keel on the railings,

He sinks deeper who fell from higher but regular swells drown the sailors,

Caesar come again, rule this cattle pen, things were better then, I'm still one of them,

And now we're under we are still looking down, Jesus will lead us to Jordan.

Weightless pounds of gold have been glimmering, glowing this valley like a pale moon,

Tablets broken of acid have hit the ground, mule tracks laid in a red lagoon.

Drop a pearl to the match-girl crying from a broken heart because her iPod's dead,

And there's no weeping now the leaf is dryer but Jesus will lead us to Jordan.

Dining dead and the flesh hanging on the bones, knives crossing forks and an evil eye,

No swallow flies to the cold loft anymore, the playwright is sweeping and is baking pie,

We were innocent, we were never strong, lost in the labyrinth we were lead along,

And now the painted leaf has been whitewashed, Jesus, lead us to Jordan.