The Pilgrimage

Tempers frayed in yellow sand
Of muses' maids and daemons damned,
The pirates' parotts speak in tongue
Where empty wordless songs are sung.
When nomads search their time to bide
From sordid secrets they have shyed,
Witless wanderers one by one
To the desert sand behind the sun.

In carcass shelters they lay their young
Their deathly desires they become
They danse macabre through elysian fields
As they reap the sower of their seeds.
Pious faces in curtain'd greed
Pied-pipers in youth will breed
Witless wanderers one by one
To the desert sand behind the sun.