If dust could only talk. What would we hear it say?. Before it's brushed aside. Just as it's swept away. It's just the evidence. It's of no consequence. It's only flesh and bone. Why don't you leave it alone?. If dust could only speak. Caught in a falling beam. If dust could only cry. If dust could only scream. For it's the single witness that might testify. Could I spit out the truth?. Or would you ather just swallow a lie?. But dust is always caught behind a coat of paint. Beneath the marble fingernails of kings and saints. And in the theatre curtain where they hang a drape. Or in the ticket pocket where your hands escape. Before they start to wander. Or they start to shrink. You rub your eye a little and appear to blink. And then she caught you staring. She knows just what you're thinking. What got into you was not a ghost as such. It was just dust. Here comes the juggernaut. Here come The Poisoners. They choke the life and land. And rob the joy from us. Why do they taste of sugar. Oh when they're made of money. Here comes the lamb of God. And the butcher's boy Sonny. Well I believe we just.