from all the bells he tolls this is the most rusty one
and its hoarse voice echoes in the chapel

he broke the holy song into a thousand pieces
and they called for his lips to be burned

the still tar figure awaits behind the chair
while he is stretching far to catch the rope

the boy is singing loud with fear of darkness
yellow flowers float over people's heads

daffodils daffodils
sweet angelic faces

the boy with the bells draws in the scent
and transported he falls into Heaven

the angels who fall will hear the bells toll
on a Sunday in May in this city