The saints of mixed blend malt agree.

The silence isn't was it was.

Could you teach me what it is to read

Betweens the lines of speech?

I cannot not give what I am.

I've nothing left I cannot give.

The single speeds of dark and light

Begin to disagree.

The starling and the hawk concur

That what I want is far from here

And felt between my every breath

That brushes inward, cheek to mouth.