cradle rattle dont run

con le chiese, with a church

an ocean to pray to

in the dessert:

we are the fallen ones

sent thru tunnels, highways, sideways,

thru darkness we sighhhhhhhh

sent to the hills

we are the signs in the shadows in the trees

we are the wind that wraps around the the naked arms and legs

of hollow trunks whispering

we are the signs

fallow  follow them

farther

we are the fathers falling like feathers on your lap

we cradle you like blankets

a baby put in a basket

to flow down a river and whisper

fear noo one

not even the great one

the pharoah knows not

the father, or i am the sun,

the pharoah is the

fairest one who eats the apple and

lives.

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