Sieben - John in the Pulpit
John in The PulpitI frogbit and arrowhead,
you eyebright and teasel.
Me, John in the pulpit,
your musk, your honeysuckle.
You my purpling rose.
I, all bristly hound’s tongue
grasp, you yellow loosestrife.
Me, John in the pulpit, woodruff and butterbur,
your musk, your honeysuckle,
red dead-nettle to your blood drop emlets.
Our vervain, our feverfew and tansy,
our bindweed, or bittersweet?
Our burnt orchid, our mountain everlasting, gold of pleasure, or petty spurge?
Our self-heal.
Written by:
MATT HOWDEN
Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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