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The way we were born is the way we will die. In the waves we will dive. By the waves we were scorned & tossed from the earth to the grave. Wait. Wait for the voice of the rain. The song of pain. Go alone to the waves like a ghost tossed from the earth to the grave. Wait, wait.
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John Lonesome - Niamh
04:39
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Night makes its bed beneath your breasts. Your fragile throat is white like milk. & I touch your skin as if my hands were chains. My wounded kiss rests on your lips. Feel my breath swell upon your skull & down your spine like candle wax licked by flame. When my warfare is ended & my loneliness dissolves. I will take your hand & guide you out of here. I will give you one final kiss that will echo through the pines, fierce at first like winter, gentle at last like a doe.
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3. |
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The way we were born is the way we will die. In the waves we will dive. By the waves we were scorned & tossed from the earth to the grave. Wait. Wait for the voice of the rain. The song of pain. Go alone to the waves like a ghost tossed from the earth to the grave. Wait, wait.
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4. |
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Night makes its bed beneath your breasts. Your fragile throat is white like milk. & I touch your skin as if my hands were chains. My wounded kiss rests on your lips. Feel my breath swell upon your skull & down your spine like candle wax licked by flame. When my warfare is ended & my loneliness dissolves. I will take your hand & guide you out of here. I will give you one final kiss that will echo through the pines, fierce at first like winter, gentle at last like a doe.
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