One thousand ploughs my heart  Grind on my spine  Fields of flowers sun embraced  Broken by the driven mass    Smiling faces, laughing child  No suffering from your infection  Fir eyour arms from point blank range  The circle is now complete    The things done with eyes of one  Speak of those with forked tongue  Catch the words with molten ears  Let them flee rearranged    Swallow your seeds in trust of you  Ripped by the thorns of the growing flower  You build your throne on tiny straws  Straws you took from other nests    The god inside sees no wrong  The geo is satisfied