Look at the paddock full of purple weeds. The harmless hue, what a view, Ignore the beauty and it will seed.
On wind or word, this beauty will spread. Until the farmer wakes up and then the dread. His land is tattooed, his live stock is poisoned!
The land falls fallow and now has little value. He turns his hand to him self, I am a beast of Burden.
Down to the parlour and tattoo my skin A purple sea of flowers must spread. The mark of the beast was really in his head. Sigh! Oh no Pattison’s curse!
Colin -August 2013