The mud
Martin Ecuer, Pierre Rettien
I just draw in my head
The picture of a landscape
That I bring with me everywhere
Where time is unreal
I’m going to the lake
I stand before it
I smell the yellow grass
I stand in the cold wind
The mud is gonna call me back again
This slow walk brings back
Eternal memories
I just have to get rid of my fears
Get down to earth
I walk to the lake
The mud is gonna know
The taste of my flesh
The soil will fill my lungs
Autumn is leaving
Winter is coming
Autumn is leaving
Winter is coming
