4 acessos
Going down, your naked body quake
The sun that eats the meadow,
Is a suicide
Mother wound, the tilted sky we stole
Its images will shatter,
Everything we are
All to nothing
We yearn
Wounded in postures of birth
Going down, crying in our sleep
As we implore the border,
For the things we fear
Tender hands, caress your shivering back
The truth you bear will murder, everything
You are
All to nothing
We yearn
Wounded in postures of birth
All to nothing, we yearn
Wounded in masks
Breathing blood
You’re running down my legs
The scars I bear shall witness
Amidst the brooding trail
All to nothing
We yearn
Wounded in postures of birth
All to nothing, we yearn
Wounded in masks