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.