Clangour and Flutes

Eat the young, taste the blood
They don't know a thing about us
Shake their bones, throw them out
We make something new out of things lostI will be the lumberjack and you will be the treeIf you go chasing rabbits and you know you've gone too far
The lines in your hands are the map to show you where you areI will be the boat and you will be the seaAnd if you would find feelings where should be none
Bury them deep before you do something that can't be undoneI will be the fire and you will be the homeAny fluke just might damn off the look those eyes will see
A cold wind's blowing, the cold wind that came with meI will be the forest and you will be the dead treeEat the young, taste the blood
Stab the night with water knives
Shake their bones let them know that there are rodents in their eyesI will be the lumberjack and you will be the tree