High above the Earth we sit at a lake on the mountain, in the middle of it
Our legs are tired, our skin is warm, and music plays on the wind in the form
Of ripples gliding across water, like a whisper except softer
I ask him again if he can hear it playing
I ask him again if he can hear it playing between the colors
I tell him of the bloodmonths at my window
I ask him if he knows a way I could go without setting the world on fire
High above the Earth we sit at a lake on the mountain, in the middle of it
Our legs are tired, our skin is warm, and music plays on the wind in the form
Of ripples gliding across water, like a whisper except softer
I ask him again if he can hear it playing
I ask him again if he can hear it playing between the colors
I tell him of the bloodmonths at my window
I ask him if he knows a way I could go without setting the world on fire
I ask him of the blues and of the golds
The sun, the future, and what they might hold
He looks away and doesn't say a word
He looks at me and says he doesn't know