Lonely land, this one I run. I thought that there was just our pride that was tearing us apart. But there are so many words I still cannot understand, like failing my dreams of freedom. These are flowers that I found here, under the trees. The same trees that grow outside... They remind me that everything here is there to waste, like all of my tears... Hold me, my love... There will be a sky without racking wires, within our weaking souls. All the montains I claim are my nearest desert, where not only cold water is desirable, but our reigns of passion and desire... This cannot last so long... We deserve that... Our own miracles of peace.
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