The church had vanished, salvaging treasured songs As a witness to lost prayers from the frail frame I'd born The town was a victim of its own insides From wretched lashes, stealth parades From skulls and ashes she had made The demolition, the curse Of our advances Our dead are dancers The definition, the curse She is a spectre and those who love her know A sharp indentation of burial on a stage Our deafening loss, our swift outrage Oh the blunt mouth of the spectacle left the unwanted songs of dwellers From the piers, the missing boy Who gave more than I could employ...