Lyrics:
on the print of an image of some bit of your skin is a film of dust that must be wiped clean
Piano accompaniment - excerpt from Erik Satie's, "Embryons desséchés, II. D'Edriophthalma. Sombre"
Which winter fires breathe life into this myth?
The rush of goosebump and flight of bliss only talk about what can be had.
The love that is sought is not.
We are not babble, but yes we can't exist.