seaside town, Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, angels

Face of Cain

A mist is rolling in
Boats are stationed in the harbour
Cross yourself Father Flynn
The brandy is a little harder.

Here come the Angels
Here come the Angels
On black and white horses
On red and pale horses
Riding, riding, riding, rising
A new sun rose today
Did we lose something along the way?

A sign creaks in the wind
Casting shadows from the Lighthouse
Heaven with this town is twinned
She wipes the bloodstains from her white blouse.


She walks the cobbled streets alone
Echoes from one hundred years ago
She holds the little secret phone
The road to God is paved with sorrow.

He breaks open the seal
Written by a friend, left no name
His face he starts to peel
But who will recognise the face of Cain?


© Severn Dwyer. 2009

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