Of what I feel, with heavens glare,

with the angels, lingering chills,

bear with my soul.

Of tears we hide, Therefore,

they fill my heart with joy.

With spirits to flee, the wound is my key.

Of lies in these worlds

we belong to a history of she.

Of words we speak, in silence we weep,

to as we grasp our lost mind into the sea.

Oh’ mountains of heir, do I slither?

Share me your wisdom

as I have hope to grow with thee.