I stand still, getting buried, under pressure, by the sands of time, I am covered, remembered, unseen.

You are up there, getting scattered, over mountains, by the hands of life, you are stripped, made bare, cleaned.

It is my remains you pump to the surface, it is my dead fire that gives yours light.

It is your straining to make villains out of victims, your commitment to love crimes that keeps me reaching through the night.