IT) RTRA R O P (SELF KIRCHNE R E K IG RIN THE D NST LUDW ER
A Field Full Of Rushes Familiar fields Follow closely at my heels As I take turns around Bad tempered balustrades Down in Deserts Of Love - Begging for bogus bullion Behind a Baghdad brothel I believed only in untruths… And arabesques, as she undressed Down in Deserts Of Love - I remember the sinking City would take us easy Unto the evening air, so cold It should have snowed Down in Deserts Of Love - Lamenting frailty, Frequenting vice ‘till self-perverted artifice Unfound me suddenly mostly loathly Down in Deserts Of Love