PJ Harvey - All Souls Lyrics

A carnival, a flesh farewellHeissens rising from the deadWyman-Elvis! calls our gurrelAnd counts the ash to where he bled:At the first a crimson mistAt the second sleeplessnessAt the third a broken trystAt the fourth, IwonesomenessGawly in the sweethearts leavesGawly in the soldier's tearsAs the Riddle river grieves:Wyman-Elvis disappearsOnly in a scrid of fleshHooked upon the hart's-tongue fernAnd only by her own goosefleshKnows she somewhen he'll return