Belladonna

No falling chimes, no call to arms,

No siren whines, no false alarms,

Down the telephone lines

At the side of the farms

Arm in arm, down hemlock row

Where the flowers of evil... never grow

Under one heartbeat, heavy but slow

Walking together in the purple snow charming breezes, bring the rain

It's gonna run like rats down the gutters and the drains

It's gonna run like a river

Down the window panes

Down a web of cracks, like twisted veins

A stranger... calls my name between the rollerama and the junk yard

Where the panorama looks like mars

And the belladonna looks like stars

Behind the panamanian bars

In the dying gardens... down below

Walking together in the purple snow.