From “The colour of wheatfields”
Drops running on a string
I get wet even with the sun shining
Selfless desires and shared feelings
I know when you’re not scared and I know when you should be.
I can see you headed for the wasp nest and can already feel the stings.
You haven’t yet climbed the tree
And I can see you falling.
I guess the waterfall from the sounds of the river.
I hear the spark of a fire, I already smell the woods burning.
I see the bones under your flesh, I see the wolves eating.
The blood moon that foreshadows a disaster.
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