Tolling Bells

By Matthew Hewitt

I can hear the tolling bells
of the dark tower of babel,
under blood streaked skies I can hear the bells,
a mournful sound the bells of babel,
they are wailing for me,
they are wailing for you,
the spirits they toll the bells,
and we are drawn to them in a dreamy trance,
for the spirits want to posses us,
and lead us to the land of the rotting,
fetid death inhabited home,
of our fathers,
who patiently wait,
for our weeping arrival,
because to the bells of babel we are drawn,
like a bee to a sweetly scented flower,
or as a lover to a lover is drawn,
or like a bat to the darkness,
irresistibly we are drawn.