---

Dancing souls around a tree,
their spines shine in the fog.
The names, and the pics of when they lived
surround me as a buried womb.
A rainbow, under their pouring memories,
appears and then our stories
become one; and a murmuring river
fed by this ghost rain
gushes from darkness and washes my heart.

“Do you lead me to
the pyre where my offers can be burnt?
Where the peace I perceive
will find me also when I'm gone?”
I ask.

“Mute are the only fitting
gloves for our hands; our action
can't be heard.”

So I sing with my knees on the cold soil,
I sing grateful to the night and its foils.
I sing alone.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.