I thought I caught a glimpse of a life
(once, I was a book of feathers)
Worth living for each and every second
(collected by a lonesome farmhand)
Where envy turns its back on me
(accompanied by dutiful spirits)
And shines off into the distance
(oh, I loved Him so)
Where I am deceived by a cold blue light
(as I perhaps could learn to love myself)
And stare at the wide open spaces between bookcases
(as the air turns mild and pale)
Adorned with kitschy paintings
(dusk will raise the dust on the hills)
But my feeling is bound by a shearing
(and reveal oil beneath the dirt)
And held by a spear run through my body
(I hurt my fingers as I dig, so slowly)
At least now I can spill
(deep into His lovely earth)
Into a deep, earth-shattering sleep
If I could see
Where it comes from
Maybe I could
k** it at its source
Feel no remorse
For the paper I burnt
On the floor
No remorse
What a day to love yourself
(if I am patient in the eyes of the lord)
Like you love the rain outside
(will He grant me access to joy?)
The warmth beneath a shelter
(what if I turn my hands to the aid of others)
The quiet between the droplets
(or my eyes to the gaze of the page?)
Giving way to an eternal spring
(the green of the hill engulfs me)
What a night to spend alone
(and swallows my eternal neutrality)
Contemplating the dreams of adolescence
(and my indifference to pain)
I consider what might happen
(gradually my intelligence subsides)
If I step not towards the light
(will my soul continue in fear?)
But further towards midnight
(such fear surely rests at the bottom of everyone's heart)
Feel no remorse
For the paper I burnt
On the floor
No remorse