If the wind is parch white And the universe stops And listens to the words Shape and form on the tip of my tongue Vultis nosse? Vis sentiunt? Could I chip away the walls that separate our bodies? Medio claustra potui dirumpere animas?
It would seem foolish, huh?
Funny, how hurt is so heavy. Funny, how desiderium clarius est quam amor aliquando
Chant these ancient hymns And press your lips against the sound of eternity: *et orate et orate Amo te