The sting of bees took away my father br who walked in a swarming shroud of wings br and scorned the tick of the falling weather. br br Lightning licked in a yellow lather br but missed the mark with snaking fangs: br the sting of bees took away my father. br br Trouncing the sea like a ragin bather, br he rode the flood in a pride of prongs br and scorned the tick of the falling weather. br br A scowl of sun struck down my mother, br tolling her grave with golden gongs, br but the sting of bees took away my father. br br He counted the guns of god a bother, br laughed at the ambush of angels' tongues, br and scorned the tick of the falling weather. br br O ransack the four winds and find another br man who can mangle the grin of kings: br the sting of bees took away my father br who scorned the tick of the falling weather.