I swim through endless sleep, ever dreaming seldom at peace
I long to read the Braille on her lips, to tick to the marching of clocks
Softly singing strings and chords in pigment
Hearts drawn into filaments, the most divine of instruments
Rhythm and dance, time and resonance; wearing nothing but our bones
Lavish geometries coalesce, joined in form and purpose
Softly singing strings and chords in pigment
Hearts drawn into filaments, the most divine of instruments
We belong to the trees
We belong to the forest
We belong to the trees
We belong to the forest
I am made of soil, I am made of earth
I am made of water, I am made of dust
I am made of salt, I am made of light
I am made of light