(originally wash yourself)      Wash yourself and see your sorrow, make every pitcher clean   Take a mop to swab the floor and destroy the evil dream   Counting houses full of lead, the evil eye on high   The streets awash with blood and pus, the new moon's in the sky   God's aloft, the winds are raging   God's aloft, the winds are cold   After leaving I was weeping - count it out in tolls   Watch the book, the page is turning - how the tale unfolds   Inside every cancered spectre,   Inside-outside find your own   God's aloft, the winds are raging - god's aloft, the winds are cold