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
