See
Resounds
The death knell
of our cold flesh
Stop crushing your dreams
dug in the well of your hands
Dare to jubilantly repeat the promise of the morning
Are there only empty dawns left in our lives?
If your steps mingle roles in the heart of the tares
I will make my skin a soil in which to dig
If your hands rise veils in the key wind ment
I will make of my skin a land in which to dig
If your body bursts male in exhausted flight
If your soul crushes virgin the inviolate earth e
I will make my skin into earth in which to dig