Chanson
Chanson
For him its whats beneath this roof that matters Not what flies above or burrows below. For him its whats within these walls that counters All earths motion. Its a stillness he can control. For him its minds movement makes this music And not someone playing his cold bones. For him its the silence inside each breath Stops him from singing and not winters winds. For him its what this blind moon sees Keeps his eyes open throughout shrouded night. For him its all the echoes he never answered Nesting, word by word, in the whispers he withholds. For him its as if the zodiac cursed him With a nature neither human nor divine. For him everything absence censures Makes him wish his world was open wide.