An outlined figure in that crafted fort,
No name shall mark in flight with light so faint,
Trust, trust clocks are lying in that court.

The dim men who tend to an ivy cross may sport.
In front crowded circle’s shortened mayhems saint;
an outlined figure in that crafted fort.

Lie down , look at the blue, the stains of distort,
desolate hail will abort, touched with human taint.
Trust, trust clocks are lying in that court.

The messy shamed discussion drowned in port,
they paid too much, purgatory golden paint,
An outlined figure in that crafted fort.

Those who would deny only dreamed those sorts
And walked soundly under chains of faith so radiant,
An outlined figure in that crafted fort,
Trust, trust clocks are lying in that court.