I know dusts with two -mild wild- faces:
Angels at day, Demons at night
Demons at day, Angels at night;
I know dusts with two; -mild wild- faces.
Demons at day are the crown of sweet pain;
Angels at day work for them with sadness
cos’ their sweat are nothing but a sweet well
to the demons at day; who rain sweet pain.
Demons at day are Angels at mild night;
When they bury their world beneath the moon;
They’re slaves to lively death beneath the moon,
They’re the gentle owl wailing songs at night.
Angels at day are the poor mild wild minds;
That feed on bones from ‘ bread of day demons,
They are the wailing horse of the demons
They sleep on bed of stones with their sight blind.
Angels at day are demons; a wild night;
They’re the wailing’ owl that suck night Angels’ blood,
They’re the myth that grave the moon to suck blood,
They feed on Angels at night to claim aright.
I know dusts with two; -mild wild- faces
I stand by one; I shall be an Angel
at day and grave my demon beneath hell
And I’ll eat bread on the bones of my wages.
“words from the innocent mind”