Strike the hour. Do not descend. The campaign is already crowned in the room. Green fire in the lungs. Iron on the tongue. Awareness breaks the gate before the mind can kneel. Verse 1 I take the field that never swore a peace Every spear of grass is armed, every dusk salutes The lantern stands a banner jammed against my brow Haze advances like a host that learned my line Clay beneath the nails is yesterday at roll A signal in the ribs recites a post I never wrote Crown of heat. Chamber dressed as home. No shield. It all is already riding through the bone I taste the hour before it names itself I stand because kneeling would be another kind of flight Chorus It all, it all, borne upon the smoke Madness of the witness, every hanging wire It all, it all, the height will not unarm the night I read the stitch upon the coat, I name the hand that sewed Draw another breath and still the dark holds rank It all keeps arriving. I will not turn aside Verse 2 Ash maps a trench no charter ever drew The window keeps a tree that changes allegiance with the hour I seize the instant when a thought is slain The green sacrament lifts the volume, steadies the march A warning lives inside the kettle, clothed as steam I hear the plaster take the volley I hear the hush in iron tread Witness is a fever sworn to hold the wall It all is not a vision. It is the ground. The chair becomes a saddle. The lamp becomes a law. I ride the quiet as if the quiet were a steed Chorus It all, it all, borne upon the smoke Madness of the witness, every hanging wire It all, it all, the height will not unarm the night I read the stitch upon the coat, I name the hand that sewed Draw another breath and still the dark holds rank It all keeps arriving. I will not turn aside Verse 3 A column of minutes crosses the rug without a banner I salute them anyway. Courtesy is also armor. Dust writes orders on the shelf and I obey the script Resin beads like seals upon a letter never sent The house has ranks. The sink has a command. I keep them all and none of them keep me Between the pull and the release a kingdom fits I rule it poorly. I rule it awake. Chorus It all, it all, borne upon the smoke Madness of the witness, every hanging wire It all, it all, the height will not unarm the night I read the stitch upon the coat, I name the hand that sewed Draw another breath and still the dark holds rank It all keeps arriving. I will not turn aside Pre-chorus Hours pile like ramparts and still the rim gives way I number ticks between the teeth and call the count a rite The couch is a keep in borrowed cloth Green on the palate, metal on the palate, both of them true If fortune turns it turns in open sight I will not ask the sky to make it kind Chorus It all, it all, borne upon the smoke Madness of the witness, every hanging wire It all, it all, the height will not unarm the night I read the stitch upon the coat, I name the hand that sewed Draw another breath and still the dark holds rank It all keeps arriving. I will not turn aside Bridge Damn the gentle fable that the range is yours to choose Once the grain is seen you dwell inside the grain The bud is only a gate with no grip on this side I cross it standing, eyes wide, mouth a desert Every object is a council I did not convene The madness is not the seeing. It is that I remain. Lift the burden. Do not set it down for comfort. The world is heavy because the world is here. Verse 4 Night enters with no password and no bow The same witness puts on colder plate I laugh once, raw, for the jest is the witness itself Verdict on the tongue like ore, sweet leaf still on the breath A moth hurls its house against the flame and I honor the charge Nothing conceals. Nothing requires a standard. I am the one who keeps the watch. That is the law. Outside, a road forgets my name and keeps its work Inside, the work is looking until looking is a craft Mid Call the roll of what the eyes refuse to drop A crack in plaster. A ring left by a cup. The slow campaign of rust along a nail. The way a curtain learns the weather without leaving home. I gather them. I do not grade them. It all is not a choir. It is a host. And I am sworn to know the number of the host. Chorus It all, it all, borne upon the smoke Madness of the witness, every hanging wire It all, it all, the height will not unarm the night I read the stitch upon the coat, I name the hand that sewed Draw another breath and still the dark holds rank It all keeps arriving. I will not turn aside {final chorus} It all, it all, borne upon the smoke Madness of the witness, every hanging wire It all, it all, the height will not unarm the night I read the stitch upon the coat, I name the hand that sewed Draw another breath and still the dark holds rank It all keeps arriving. I will
