Gallows

It was just before the moon hung her weary heavy head in
The gallows and the graves of the milky, milky cradle
His tears have turned to poppies, a shimmer in the midnight
A flower in the twilight, a flower in the twilight
And our screaming is in his screaming
Our screaming in the willow
They took him to the gallows, he fought them all the way though
And when they asked us how we knew his name
We died just before him, our eyes are in the flowers
Our hands are in the branches, our voices in the breezes
And our screaming is in his screaming
Our screaming in the willow tree
We’re waiting by the willow, our milky milky cradle
Our lockets long have rusted, his picture worn and weathered
Our hair is in the garden, our voices in our toeses
Our limbs are in the blossoms, our eyes are in the branches
And our screaming is in his screaming
Our screaming in the willow tree
Our screaming is in his screaming
Our screaming in the willow tree