and the wind will be my hand...
the wolves in the timber
in the mirror in my eyes
in so long in today of all love.
what's the meal
and where's the field?
give me your naked hands
and sing this song
even though we don't know the words.
one day I just woke up
with fangs at the piano.
and I guessed that I will live
long and laughable and lost
but okay with it all.
...while the road will be my sharp blanket.