The Great, Bloody and Bruised Veil of This World

The great bloody bruised veil of this world
The great bloody bruised veil of this world
The great bloody bruised veil of this world
The great bloody bruised veil of this world
The trees wave in England
The streams flow in England
The poor halt in England
The poor heart of England
And did those feet
Hobbled and crippled as they were
By our disbelief
Hope here to find
Some modesty
Green colour of the grass
The horse fresh smell arising
From its quietly glowing glory
And did they
As they moved from one sad gap of the heart to another
Did they hope to find us open
Look, much is my armour
I can show you all
The walls that may be built
But mostly, most of all
There's a wall of words
Around my heart
Which is my soul
Which is my all
God is not dead
For all of us
And goodbye to you all
This is indeed paradise
Here is garden upon garden
Suns and beetles
The ladybird lands upon my knee
The lark is all joy
Here are birds upon birds
Beyond the great bloody bruised
And silent veil of this world
The kind one waits
Staggered pain of being
The great bloody bruised veil of this world
The great bloody bruised veil of this world
The great bloody bruised veil of this world
The great bloody bruised veil of this world