Call of the Tuskers - Virus

Casual is the presence of the sounds

that trained their ears to shield themselves in the deserts

from the cross-winds

eternally seeking them out

in vacant places and through the clockwork of ancient remains

— that rests on the ocean floor

— pulling the strings from the shadows

On the sites where they flogged

the elephants

and handled their bones…

Those fields are all scarred

Centuries howl in the last gleam in their eyes

Significant dreams reveals despise

— that rests on the ocean floor

— pulling the strings from the shadows

Red currents move their tusks

and their bones

Under the light of the aging sun

Weaker with every contortion

As they wander through the desert plains

sizing up the universe

from the solar winds to this pleasant breeze

They’re drinking the first waters

as the islands are rising up from the seas