The stones are stained with salt and ash
Lying face down, worming the ground
Dark hair flows around her neck
Something's stirring in the courtyard and the grounds
The nausea, the fracture, the battery, It's coming
The nausea, the tumours, the seizures, it never ends
You can't pray with a mouth full of dirt
You can't sing with lungs full of sand
Encircle the black stone