This postcard tells you where we’ve beennAnd dirty dreams of pious mennWho wake in fear but sleep againnWith what they’ve done nWith what they’ve donenWith all they’ve donennSome profit died but wrote it downnOur serpent bell is on the groundnAnd all the ladies sing it loudnHallelujahnHallelujahnHallelujahnnThe meadow birds have found the bones of righteous mennLike ragged clothes, like precious stonesnAnd fell like evil in the end and eight of themnThose evil men, those perfect mennnSome knuckle broken heart diseasenWhich pulled a preacher off his kneesnA callous whisper through the treesnBlows patience boynMore patience boynMore patience boynnAnd watch her children by the flamenThe ones you gave your father’s namenWhose evil and his love remainednInside you boynInside you boynInside you boynnThe meadow birds have found the bones of righteous mennLike ragged clothes, like precious stonesnAnd fell like evil in the end and eight of themnThose evil men, those perfect mennnWe’ll sing a song we’ve never heardnFormed out of small forsaken wordsnAnd all the while that this occursnWe’ll love you allnWe’ll love you allnWe’ll love you allnnAnd for the beauty that we’ve lostnThe measures time for love it costnDespite our feelings for the crossnWe love you allnWe love you allnWe love you alln