First we wash our feet near
the immortal shrine
And then our shadows meet
and then we drink the wine.
I see the hungry clouds up
above your face
And then the tears roll down,
what a bitter taste.
And then you drift away on
a summer's day where the wildflowers bloom
With your golden loom.
I walk across the bridge in
the dismal light
Where all the cars are stripped
between the gates of night.
I see the trembling lion with
the lotus flower tail
And then I kiss your lips
as I lift your veil.
But you're gone and then all
I seem to recall is the smell of perfume
And your golden loom.
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |