Hiraeth
Lécio Dias
You
The solitude
The mockingbird
The nude violence of my heart
You are slightly turning into dust
The lust
The luxury
The sick old tree
That burns
And screams for the love of my dance
Chances are never coming
Never growing
Never stopping
No, you don’t know how I can be
Inside I’ve grown
I’ll break a bone
And I’ll become more
Than an old silent door
So be well...
Be well...
Be well...
