I wish I could come again.
Like a bird or a flower
To be with you in the hour
When silence reigns supreme
How he made his sharp but soft words break
Her heart to learn singing all night long
The desire burnt out at the stake.
Whichever road that leads us to soldier
For a land thirsty for green leaves
Makes a hero of us that never gave
Up on our fatherland.
The pills are communion to you,
Each one bringing you closer to the most high.
The prophet’s cane, though a weapon
For destruction, seeks salvation for you.
There was also a candle on the table.
Pen, paper.
And the head that someone put there.
He must have forgotten it.
