Coarse hair is stroked across strings A the faint sonority travels on winds Bold changes in the sky, it is cleaned Violin!, imerse me now in your squandered dreams
Listen to windmills Learn to breathe, become breathing man
The bones hammer, tuning in on precession Lower the drums, turn a slow recession Imagine circling down metal tubes and dripping out fluidly over the sounds of the Englar Alheimsins a journey to the underworld, home?