Soaked;

    in the morning dewlight-
  the passing wave-
       the candlenight fades away;
sins of old stain the
        hands of young.
   the blade cuts deep
crimson water runs thick-
       (blood in thicker than water)stain me
and you sing out in pain.
        the constant infinities of it all
         runs again and again;
            water through outstretched hands
bleed the soil dry in constant dryness.
    the singing of lark
     welcomes the coming dark;
light i-stained with coming blood.
            the dark rings of shards of steel
                   soaked.
           the drenching of sin
                 comes again;
                 soaked;