At the bottom of the earth,
Where the mother of the wind lives,
and the flowers of the graves
spin the yarn of wick thoughts.  

At the bottom of the earth,
Where butterflies flap their wings
on the paths of bungling scalpers,
hoping that the mother typhoon’ll move the sand grain of barren spirit.

At the bottom of the earth,

The mother of the wind is senseless,

The mother of the mountain fires life and forges death,

The mother of the sea’s whirling its flow upstream,

The mother of the winter unfreezes
the wings of the blizart on the icy stones,

The mother of the roses draws breath
from the fragrance of grief,

The mother of the wildernes’burning
the roots of thirst,

The mother of the black sea’sipping life from palmier trees,

The mother of the moon running trough iron clouds, like nebula through the light,

The mother of the earth gives, and gives, and gives,
Gives you everything you need,

At the bottom of this earth,
Only you human are dreaming to stay caved in eternity.

We are all masked by the hand of God
This mouth is a cavity of desperation
What's the point in getting ready
If it all comes tumbling down eventually
The blind have never risen
And the deaf have not yet learned to speak
With the music only they can hear
Within each passing heartbeat
We are forever beholden to each other
For there are hundreds of mouths left to feed
But beauty is a deed that can’t be bought
Still I fought for your heart and lost everything

Swing with me,
swing with me,
come on everyone swing with me
swing with me,
swing with me,
come on everyone swing with me.
Get a rope,
find a tree,
now you can, swing with me
swing with me,
swing with me,
come on everyone swing with me.

Do you ever imagine
      you've lived this day
long ago

only under the beveled glass of a dream,
and now,

you're just going through

      the motions using muscle memory?

The luminous grey undersides of clouds
Travelling a charcoal sky, speak my thoughts aloud
As thunder
                    Reflections of my mind's wandering eye