Slow birds
No breeze
Iron hearts
Rust in streams
Long march
Small crimes
Soft words
W h i s p e r
It's time to come home - your eyes
To bring back - your charms
To sit real still
In my arms
Clocks tick
Trees pound
Lions roar
On empty streets
Long lists
In black and white
(s h h) red words
That read like the fourth of july
You're home
Uhuh
You're home
In my arms