Let’s retire to our knees
With our books as our gracious
And kindly machines
Of concern take our places
Grow motorized trees
Build robotic faces
Who smile on command
Who can mind their own business
We’ll hold human hands
And rest human feet

In the Chapelcross Towns
Of the battle-scarred mornings
Fake leaves rustling sounds
Lay rattlesnake warnings
From our homes underground
You can still hear them moaning
Don’t cheat on your taxes
But as for your spouses
Dark secrets come out
With comma or without

When the tired young knees
Of your father walked out
To the lord I disbelieve
But increase thou my doubt
He sat down in the leaflessness
A thousand more times
I went back on my word
But I won’t go back this time
Neither bondsman nor free
But a newspaper salesmen
Who moves about words
(e.g. “death do us part”)
If our prayers are unheard
Well, our prayers are unheard
*The following lines do not appear on the "Pale Horses (Appendix)" version of "Chapelcross Towns", but are included in the Audiotree performance version. While not included on the studio-recorded track, they have some great annotations that are worth archiving here.*

And what there shall we yield
In our own poor devotions?
That pearl from the field
Cast back home to the ocean
Would you cast out my fears
Or at least fix some tea
In our cabbage white kingdoms
Of kings of no history
You can pack up your things
I would still wear your ring