Happy, to control myself towards you
A voiceless wind at night, writing
Until I am what I am
That loves you
At the point within which beauty begins
You are silence, you are silence
Watering myself with knowledge
Quenching the thirst of the root, deeply
An old book from the olden days
Letters, black, white
Until I am what I am
That loves you
At the point within which beauty begins
You are silence, you are silence
At the point within which beauty begins
Mother would be talking on the phone
And drawing pictures with a pen on paper
Father would be shirtless working in the garden
I would open the fridge
Take a look, and close