It was just before the moon hung
Her weary, heavy hating
the gallows and the graves hold
the milky, milky cradle
His tears have turned to poppies
shimmer in the midnight
Flower in the twilight
a Flower in the twilight
And our screaming
is in his screaming
our screaming in
the willow
They took him to the gallows,
He fought them all the way though,
And When they asked us how we knew his name
We died just before him
our eyes are in the flowers
our hands are in the branches
our voices in the breezes
And our screaming
is in his screaming
our screaming in
the willow tree
We're waiting by the willow
our milky, milky cradle
our lockets long have rusted
his picture worn and weathered
our hair is in the garden
our voices in mitosis
our wombs are in the blossoms
our arms are in the branches
And our screaming
is in his screaming
our screaming in
the willow tree
And our screaming
is in his screaming
our screaming in
the willow