November 1987

I move between the stones.

From here the flood will rise.

I’ll teach you how the road bends, it curves to meet the sky.

The flood will rise.

I move around these dark entries.

I was forced to stay behind.

I’ll teach you how the road bends, it curves to meet the sky.

What wonders will you show me from here to fading dawn?

Here I walk, this is the door.

And the flower blazes in my throat.

This is the world I know.

I travel on the breeze.

Pass through them like hope.

And the flower blazes in my throat.