Rupert Hine - Anvils In Five lyrics

Hine-MacIver-Jeffes A space between three transverse lines That move toward a point sublime Each in its turn each turn in time First one before then one behind We lift the bell across the chime The watcher sees with watchman eyes Each in its turn each turn in time First one before then one behind We shield the soul with faces cold To feed the young we eat the old Each in its turn each turn in time First one before then one behind The grave is waste hear people cry As peeling lips they wait to die Each in its turn each turn in time First one before then one behind The point is named where hands combine eternally doubtfully zero linger on longer than known What Pagan Jester planned our lives And laid our heads on anvils five Who civilised the fateful line Between the point where hands combine You've reached your turn You're next in line Step up my friend I am behind...