Two women in Love, no sex. Maybe next time.
The songs are all composed by the late Stan Rogers.
This piece was work-shopped through The Bardic Circle, and posted on The Tavern Wall. My thanks to all the members, especially each of the namesakes, Ann Braxton and Claudia.
This was written for Linda-Anne and everyone who is hoping.
All mail is appreciated and answered Kamouraskan@yahoo.comThe Song of the Candle by Kamouraskan
Prologue: Two separate voices
Why did you follow me? I told you that was all there was.
I gave you your third of the last tin of tuna.The last tin! I couldnt have been fairer than that.
I know that youre hungry. I should be too, I guess.
Theres no point in rubbing up against my leg. youre going to have to find someone else. You dont have to be alone, like me... Look, go away! Please?
I just ...just want to be... You shouldnt be around someone like me right now, okay? You know what its been like these last two weeks... since I saw her. Yes, youre a beautiful cat. Yes, you are, but I havent anything to give you or anyone else. I need to figure out some things. So, let me go, okay? Just let me go.
Stash here. Sam? Yeah. I knew youd call. Look, Im sorry I blew it off, but I couldnt bear singing backup... doing doo doo for four frigging hours. Its just not... not doing it for me anymore, Sam. Yes, I know. The moneys good, Sam, but Im not quitting my day job. Yeah.... I know. I know! Sam, Im not angry, all right? Look, if you must know, something weird happened a couple of weeks ago, and I cant shake it. It made me realize... I dunno know what it made me realize, but I know theres something out there that Im missing, something I missed. Look, Ill call you back.... Yes. I will. I need to work out some stuff, and talking to you isnt going to do it, okay? Yeah.... yeah, I appreciate that, but right now....later Sam, I swear....tomorrow morning, first thing... DONT press me right now, you wouldnt want to make me angry... I dont have time for this, Sam. Goodbye.
Mrs. Henry had heard the sound of footsteps above her head, and so shed hurriedly pulled on a dressing gown and ventured into the hall. The door to the top floor apartment was open, but it was only when she was up the dimly lit stairs and she saw the flicker of light inside the darkened room that she felt her heart swell in relief. As she approached the door, she was smiling and about to call a relieved greeting to her tenant, but as her eyes adjusted to the blackness she was able to perceive an unfamiliar figure - much larger in size and stature than the one she was expecting, eerily illuminated a pearl of a flame from a cigarette lighter. Her heart plummeted down again.
"Im sorry, I thought..." She felt a poignant knowledge enter her. "Youre with the police?" she forced out.
"Yes. Im a detective..." the stranger replied..
"Lariel. Shes dead." The landlady pronounced the news with certainty, and the words seemed to echo in the empty room. As if in response, the lighter went out, and the room was silent in darkness for a moment.
The landlady closed her eyes, and lowered her head. "Oh God, its my fault. I only gave her the eviction notice because...I wanted to help her. Truly." She looked up to where she thought she could make out the tall shadow, searching for some sort of sympathy. But though the figure seemed to have none, she continued anyway. "She sat in here, just waiting, she said. For what, I have no idea. She wasnt working, there was no money coming in. They cut off her electricity last week... cut off the electricity! and she just lit candles. I thought, the eviction letter, I thought it would be a... boot to the bottom. I was afraid, when I heard her go out late last night, without a coat., that she might...She didnt mean to do it, I know. She hadnt been eating, not at all, and I think it made her a little crazy...She was normally such a cheery thing..."
The detective had allowed her to run on, but finally spoke from the darkness. "Can you find a flashlight? If you dont mind, Id like to take a look around. "
The landlady turned to go, but stopped at the door as a thought occurred to her. "Im sorry, but I didnt see a badge, could you...?"
"Of course." The detective moved towards the light from the hallway and presented the credentials.
The landlady read them carefully and apologized. "Im sorry, but you know..."
There was a shrug. "No. My responsibility. I shouldve shown it to you right away."
The detective hadnt stirred when the landlady returned from her apartment full of more apologies. "Im sorry, I looked but I could only find some other candles..."
There was some fumbling with them in the dark for a moment, until a spark flashed, and a wick caught. "Theyll have to do, I guess. Your tenant? Did you know her well?"
Mrs. Henry wanted to sit, but the apartment had never seemed less welcoming. It was so cold and bereft of any life. A second candle caught, but the flame cast more shadow than light. She looked to her memory for the gentle girl who had once brightened this somber space. Poor Lariel. Why?
"Well, as I said she was the cheeriest little thing most of the time. Then about two weeks ago, she just...stopped. I asked her what was wrong, did someone die? And she just gave me the saddest little smile and said maybe. But she wouldnt say who or anything else, just that she couldnt leave. She was waiting..."
"Two weeks ago?" There were now three tapers aflame, impaled in empty wine bottles. In the flickering light, it was possible to see plates and other bottles stained with wax. There were more dishes stacked in the drain, and an unhealthy smell permeated everything.
The detective seemed indifferent to the unkempt state of the room. There was not a flicker of any emotion to be seen in that stoneface. Mrs. Henry supposed that in cases of suicide, oddities were normal. "She was usually so tidy." She apologized on Lariels behalf. "You can see she wasnt well."
"Then this," the detective indicated the dozens of wax coated bottles and plates, "wasnt usual?"
"No, not at all. Shed been using candles to write by, ever since the electricity was cut off. But so many of these, well..."
"She just sat here? Lighting candles? Waiting?"
"Yes. Ive been so worried, I..."
"Theres very little decoration, pictures, was she here long?"
"She seems to have packed it all away, but she didnt have very much, anyway. Alone, no family. At least none she would talk about, but it didnt seem to matter to her. She loved the quiet, and being near the river. She used to go and hide in some spot and write. She would go out walking with that cat, the beast always marching ahead of her like she was Lariels protector, and sometimes I could hear her talking away to the thing just as natural as you can imagine..."
Im sorry our relationship didnt work. Really. Youve been a very nice cat, yes, you have, and I really do appreciate you trying to look after me.
Its because of that that damn stupid woman on the subway. No, thats not right. Damn stupid me. I had on my good suit, you know, my ONLY suit. And the job might not have been that bad, if Id gotten it. At least it wasnt another of those sales boiler rooms, with me trying to push some poor old lady into buying something she didnt need. And some slimy creep ringing a bell to celebrate everytime somebody was conned on the phone.
See, my mistake was that I kept wanting to believe, that there was someone, someone out there for me. I kept feeling she was going to show up. I KNEW she was going to show up.
All this time. Knowing I wasnt alone...it made everything... And then when I just missed the train, I banged my hand on the closing door.
And She looked up. Inside the subway car.
I mean if I had to have a fantasy lover, at least I went for the real thing. She was tall, dark and gorgeous, and when I saw her eyes, I froze. She stood up and I thought: she sees me.
It could have just been my fist hitting the door, but I didnt think that. I thought that she was caught, like I was. So as the train pulled away, we were staring at each other, and I thought this is it. This is her. You know it is. So I blew off the interview. I waited for the next train and Im, get this, thinking shell be waiting at the next stop. That shed have gotten off. Can you believe that? Im absolutely completely certain shes going to be there. And not only that, but Im thinking of the things shes going to say to me when I see her, expecting me, on the platform. But wait. It gets better. Shes not there, but I wait for an hour. Wondering whats keeping her. And FINALLY the reality of my own insanity begins to creep in.
Reality sucks, cat.
But I went back to the first stop, and waited there too. Until the last train. Until after 2:00 AM. I was crying, Dammit, but I went and wrote "Soulmate? and part of my address right on the wall behind where I had been when I saw her. And because I was pressing so hard, wanting so hard, I cracked the pen.
I got ink, all over my only suit. So now, I have nothing to wear to get a job, right? Its like I committed everything, because I thought...I really thought... oh damn.
So I sat in the apartment. Crying. Waiting for her. Knowing if I left for even an instant, shed show up and miss me. Because this was another test. That we were going to have only one more chance. But guess what, cat? I was wrong again! Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Why didnt she come? I really thought, I felt... Did she just not... why didnt she get off the train? I know it was her. I always thought that when we met...Why couldnt she take the chance? Why?
"Oh, heres Dite. Are you alone? wheres your friend?"
It was fortunate that Mrs. Henry had given the detective the warning. The sudden brushing of the trenchcoat was unanticipated in the candlelight. A large golden longhair looked up, sapphire eyes catching the light, before flopping on her side, exposing her stomach languorously.
"Thats Aphrodite. You should have seen the mess she was in before Lariel found her. The combing and brushing that girl did, but now look at her!" Certainly that seemed to be what the cat wanted as she rolled over provocatively. The detective ignored the animal and began examining the papers neatly stacked on the desk.
A sheet was picked up and read. "She wrote poetry?"
The summer city lights
are soft in the night
so you think that the air is clear
And Im sitting with friends,
Where 95 cents
Will buy another glass of beer
Shes got something to say,
but Im so far away
that I dont know who Im talking to
Cause you just walked in the door
All I see
"No! Songs. Beautiful songs. Oh where is it...?" The landlady took one of the candles and went to search alongside the small single bed. She came up triumphantly with an electronic keyboard. "Do you know how to make this work? She showed me once. You just type in the numbers on the top of the page, and it plays the tune. She made her own arrangements, and the machine has all these different instrument sounds."
"Songs? Did she sing?"
The landlady chuckled sadly. "She tried to. No, she said the songs were all for someone else..." She stopped for a moment. "Your identification, it said your name is Anna?" There was no acknowledgment from the detective. "Anna, would you mind playing one? Just one, for her? She was so alive, I cant stop thinking of her... alone. Wherever they took her. Would you mind?"
The detective cleared her throat. "Maam, first I think we should be looking for a note of some kind, or perhaps letters from friends and family that should be notified."
Mrs. Henry shook her head. "It wont matter to her if people dont hear this news for another minute. But I think it might make a difference to her if someone listened to her music. Please?"
In the centre of the desk, apart from all the stacks of papers, were two sheets. Picking one up, the detective read the words.
I took up my pen tonight
I couldnt seem to write
Its like I got religion
And then I lost the light
An old woman once told me
She always felt that way
She said taken from the mold
While it still can run
A candle might not keep you from the cold
But buy another candle dear, its not too much to pay
For one more try, I had to smile, before I walked away
Tonight in a room full of candles
Another cup of ashes drains away
And at time it gets so hard to handle
Knowing one more simple song has
swiftly taken wing
And Im left alone to hear the song
A lonely candle sings
Hoping that her eyes were sheltered in the flickering light, the detective laid the sheet back down with its twin on the desk. Struggling to maintain her professional mien, she said: "These would appear to be the last things she wrote before she left."
Mrs. Henry would have none of this professional detachment. "Please. Try not being a policeman for one moment. One song. There are so many of them. Look!"
The landlady held out a sheaf of papers, and grudgingly the detective took them.
Songs. All in the same careful hand. The musical notation easy to read even in the dim light. She stood there, and began to shuffle through them, each one shouting to her what this was.
A gift, as Aphrodite rubbed against the policewomans ankle, from the Gods. Exactly what shed told Sam she needed. Original material. And, written, as if for her. But now? Her schizophrenic other life as performer was supposed to be her outlet, a chance to express her soul. Was there anything left of it now? Missing. One lost soul. Last seen in the vicinity of... She could put out an APB
Her job had become more and more who she was - a cop; something to bury herself in, when her soul became more and more bruised. As a cop, she was dispassionate. Controlled. As a performer, her soul had been loosed and soared dangerously, frighteningly free. Experiencing all, fragile and subject to the vagaries of pleasures and terrors, of the wind and the skies - and people. Uncontrolled, it could be damaged, hurt - a dangerously delicate flame which could be snuffed out by one careless breath. No, safer to be the cop. Safer.
But these pages called to her, fanned the embers inside her, and it was the singer who scanned the music sheets now.
Shed always visualized her phrasing as if it was skiing exercise. The traverse between notes. The gliding, and the downhill slopes. She looked at the neat notations in the margin. Here, she would dig in the edges just a touch, not enough to make it ragged, but to pull the words out... Then there were all these low notes that she could make the listener tremble when... Every song was even in her key. Every one. A gift. But it had cost far too much, and was probably too late.
Her thoughts were broken by a plea. "Anna? Please."
The detective looked up. A wry smile twisted her mouth. "Its Anastacia. Its Russian. People...people call me Stash."
"Anastacia. Choose a song, please?"
The second sheet still lay untouched and unaccustomed fear build in her as she thought of that last page. For no rational reason, part of her dreaded reading it. So innocent, lying so open and vulnerable beside the burning candle. Yet it threatened her in some way.
One thought kept repeating in her mind. I wouldnt be here if... Why didnt I get off the train two weeks ago?
How could she have explained it? Say that it went against everything that she had to live by to survive? That belief and dreams were the stuff of failure?
Look what dreaming had brought Lariel.
No. Going back and finding the note on the subway wall and coming here were acts of madness. And this poor girls actions were the final proof of that.
But that didnt mean she couldnt give her this moment.
There was a note in the corner of the page indicating the command for the keyboard, and half hoping the batteries were dead, she switched it on, and programmed it. There was an arid click that echoed in the now silent room, and then it began to play. Bringing the first sheet closer to the light, she followed the notes with a practiced professional eye.
A trio of woodwinds opened the song, and there were some violins as a subtle counterpoint. Unbeknownst to her, she was mouthing the words as she read;
Like I got religion, and then I lost the light...
Religion was carried over four notes, and she could hear exactly how she would phrase that against the harmony of the flutes. There was no doubt. This was written for her. Even before the she picked up the last page, tears were streaming from her eyes. For what? she thought. For some damned stupid hysteric? Why was she being shown this when it was too late?
One too many cigarettes
Slowly burning down
The final cup of coffee
was cold and full of grounds
Still underneath my hands
This night has slipped away
Leaving me as empty as this page
One more candle flickers out
The night is turning gray
I cannot watch the dying flame
I have to walk away
So tonight I have burnt all my candles
leaving only ashes in their wake
and at times I get so hard to handle
The simple songs leave me behind
They all have taken wing
And Im left alone
to hear the song
a lonely candle sings.
The room was silent. A hush. A pall. The landlady said quietly. "You sing beautifully."
Stash looked up in bewilderment. "I didnt realize I was..."
Very carefully, Mrs. Henry gathered up the papers, and handed them formally to the detective. "I think these are yours." Both women stared down at the bundled sheets in the detective's trembling hands. Somehow the landlady knew this was right. The younger one just stood there shaken, struggling, but unable to find the words to reject the bequest.
In the candlelight the tears had been visible, and the landlady wasnt insensitive to the inner turmoil of the other woman, so she turned to the closet and began chattering. "She left all her clothes. I suppose she thought Id give them away or something. Theyre much too small for you, and too young for me."
Trying to get ahold of herself, Stash took a candle and went to the cramped washroom in the corner. She stood over the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. Splashed some water on her face as the landlady chattered on in the outer room.
"Strange how she used even her dishes as candle holders, and didnt use her favorite."
Stash seized on the question as a distraction when she emerged from the washroom.
"Why was it her favorite?"
"I think because it was part of a pair." Mrs. Henry answered, lifting an object. It was a miniature lantern. Four sides were tinted blue glass, with a brass base and crown.
"She always used the green one on her night walks, I suppose it was with her when you found her. The glass was the colour of her eyes." The landlady looked up speculatively. "Isnt that funny, but the this one, its the same colour blue as yours are, isnt it?"
Lost in her thoughts, she didnt really perceive the question. Where she was found. Another pilgrimage to be made? No. She would leave these songs. Leave this place, and go on. That was the logical thing. But the question slipped out. "Where did they find her?"
Mrs. Henry looked at her curiously. "How would I know? Youre the police. Didnt you come here after finding the address on her?.... Was Artemis with her? Ive been waiting for her to return. That cat would never leave her alone. I told you she was always looking after her..."
Stash closed her eyes. Deep inside her, again, a small flame flickered. "You mean... you havent received any official notification? You just assumed..." Trying to control herself, she demanded "Where do you think she went last night? Where did she usually walk?"
The landladys eyes widened, and her hand went to her mouth. "Oh, my goodness, do you think? But its freezing out there. Shes been gone for so long..." She stopped to concentrate. "She told me she would go down to the shore, wander along the banks, and stop and write. She said she had some place she could watch the shore and the people at the pier and not be seen."
Stash reached for her cell phone. "I could call out a team, we could start a full search..."
Mrs. Henry interrupted. "No. Dont you see? She didnt plan on coming back. She took her last candle... if shes still planning to... Shell hide if she sees police. Shes given up waiting... for you."
Tear streaked eyes met each other. "Then what do I do?"
There was a gray mist hovering over the water waiting for the sun to rise and burn it off . All sound was suspended in it except the dull thrum of city in the distance
Lariel had lost any sensation in her body. She knew she should feel cramped, but instead there was a dreamlike distance from herself and her body. Her attention focused on her lantern. The candles last half inch of wick was standing upright, the wax a clear pool at its base. How long before it fell and smothered itself in its own yield? She tightened her arms around a dark sleek form.
"It wouldnt be so bad, Artemis? To just drift away? Not too bad at all. No dreams, no expectations, inevitable...inescapable, the end."
Despite her resolve, the Furies thrust more last despairing thoughts into the forefront of her dimming consciousness. Why? Why didnt she come for me? What did I do wrong?
In this state of reverie she heard her name being called from a distance, but she only closed her eyes tightly, squeezing out the last tears.. It was the sputter of the candle, and the cat springing up with claws extended in reaction to it, that jolted her back to consciousness. "Ow! Artemis!"
Then she looked down and saw it.
Moving along the waning darkness of the pier, its bearer invisible in the mists shroud, a glimmer of blue light. Swinging slightly back and forth like the ships lantern it was meant to be.
There had been too many hopes and disappointments to risk one more second of belief. This was just the product of her wish. The voice calling was in her mind. Not real.
"Lariel?" it called.
She closed her eyes, but the light was still was there when she opened them.
Not daring to trust her senses, she waited. The voice called out again and the blue light moved nearer. No please. This is too cruel... She swallowed, and called out.
"Who are you?"
The detective froze at the sound in the centre of the square. There was a small forest of trees stretching along the river bank for over 100 yards directly in front. The voice had come from there. The small flicker in her chest that had driven her to this place, glowed briefly despite the twilight chill. She moved deliberately towards the thicket.
"Lariel? Is that you?"
"Whos asking?" The voice seemed strained though clear, but it was carried to Stashs ears by the wind through fog, and there was no way she could tell its source. She called to the trees. "Im..." And stopped. She continued in a different tone. "Mrs. Henry sent me."
There was no response. Her heart said. Wrong answer.
Say it, her mind urged, You know what she wants to hear. Say it and get her down. Then you can leave her with some nice shrink and go on with your life.
"Lariel?" There was no response. "Please Lariel. I cant see where you are. Please keep talking."
Nothing. Find a compromise. How much could she reveal, how much was real?
"Lariel. I read your music..."
She could almost feel a quickening in the trees.
She stopped and tried again. "This is my lantern, isnt it? And the music is mine too... Isnt it?"
She heaved a sigh when this earned her a repeat of the question. "Who are you?" But she still couldnt give the answer she knew was required. "Please. Lariel?"
Silence. But the question still hung in the frosty air. Who are you? No. I do not believe. I am doing this to save a life. I do not believe. This is what you have always feared. Its a WEAKNESS. But that small voice had already captured her. From the first word, just like the music she had written. From the first word, the first bar. Struggling with fear, herself, her instincts, she blurted "Im...." Pause. Commit!
Her world crashed and she said it. "Soulmate."
She heard an almost inaudible intake of breath and then a rustling and a groan. She hurried to stand under the tree it came from. She still could not see anyone, but there was a movement of green light, that she knew came from the twin of the lantern she carried.
"Soulmate." came the whisper. It should have been a question, but it wasnt.
There was another battle, her mind and soul clashing, before Stash could answer hesitantly. "Yes."
"You dont sound too sure." said the quiet voice..
Relief flowed through every vein. She felt her face break into a smile she didnt know she possessed. Almost jauntily she said "Look, you. Could you stop playing Cheshire cat with me, and...."
She never finished. The voice in the tree somehow stopped her with only a gentle question. "This is very hard for you, isnt it?"
The words blew out her false confidence. She saw herself standing beneath the tree carrying her lantern offering as a supplicant, and not a rescuer. She froze, her mouth unable to move.
More words floated down from the tree. "I should be very angry with you. I waited. I took the chance, and you left me alone. I think I might have hated you. But this isnt about pride, or disbelief, is it?"
Forgetting that she was only visible by the light of a single candle, Stash nodded. Then realizing what she had done she croaked out, "No."
"But..." the girl seemed just as unsure. "Do you want this? Can you accept it? Or are you still too afraid?"
Madness Stash thought, utter madness. Im letting the crazy girl analyze me. Know me. But it feels so damned...right . Good enough to want... to want to never give it up.
She stared directly at the green glow dancing between the dark leaves, and felt tears actually forming under her eyelids. Tears again? She hadnt cried this much in years. And why now? All this emotion was so frightening, there was a unthinking urge to run far away, and yet she stayed rooted to the spot. Am I too afraid? Can I even admit it?
"Im... terrified. I dont want this. " The rest of the words came bubbling up and she would not stop them. "But ... I need it. I was waiting too. Please."
"Please?" the voice from the branches repeated.
Stash swallowed in genuine pain. "I dont know how... Help me."
"Anything. Everything I am or have, its always been yours."
Stash felt a sense of wonder she hadnt felt as a child even as she tried to reject the words. She was about to ask a question when there was a groan and a curse above her. Lariel continued in a far more human tone "... but right now all I have is this damned cat, and a candle I cant let go out, and Im freezing... but I know I have to get down from this tree to get to you."
Stash strode over to the trunk and with ease, leapt off of the ground to the first level of branches. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but above her was a figure bathed in a green glow.
There was growl. "Oh damn, Artemis. You dont have to protect me from her. Shes the one."
Stash stopped climbing to ask "How can you be so sure?"
"Because you are, arent you? This is Artemis." the cat rose up and planted its legs firmly on either side of the thick branch, daring the officer to approach.
"I figured. She going to let me by?"
"I guess this is the first test for you. Can you convince the Goddess of the Hunt of the honorableness of your quest?" Now the tone was slightly mocking, but still serious somehow. Madness Stash thought, even as she climbed closer.
Another foothold, a scratch of her shin on the bark, and she was at face level.
Yes. A sense of rightness, of completeness filled her just looking at that face.
"Hello." the tree sprite said.
"Hello." And Stash felt a exhilarated grin spread across her face.
"...oh..." said Lariel in a small voice and they both watched as her wick brightened briefly, and then sputtered out.
Lariel looked up, and even in the slight light from her own candle, Stash could not, did not want to look away from the eyes which glowed with an inner compassion and magic. She raised her own lantern. "I have a fresh candle in mine." She gave a pause before allowing an embarrassed smile. "I think... its hardly been used...."
By the time they had helped each other to the ground, the sun was just appearing on the horizon, but Stash was still surprised when Lariel slid up a pane of glass and blew out the last candle. At the disbelieving stare, Lariel gave a shy grin and said hesitantly "Does anyone really need a candle... when the sun is up? I mean, that would be really nuts, wouldnt it?"
A chuckle forced its way out of the detectives throat, and turned into a deep throated laugh. And though Lariel looked slightly offended, she moved beside Stash, lifting one of the taller womans arms and slipped comfortably under it. Artemis dashed ahead of them and stopped to wait, senses alert to any dangers.
Madness Stash thought. Absolute madness. But as her arm tightened around the woman, they fitted together so perfectly, walking so naturally that Stash couldnt help but wonder what it would be like to have this for the rest of her life. Madness... and she smiled.
Thats right, Sam. I do not have any agreement with the composer. I know. Dont put it that way Sam. Youre my agent, not my father. Yes, I could just roll over one night and ask her, but if you say that again, Ill visit your office and... NO! Im not going to. The songs are mine in every way thats important, and I dont need papers that say that. Stop choking, Sam, youre going to hurt yourself.
Look, youd think youd be happy Im keeping my lives separate. Im still a cop, remember? Yes that is a threat. No, I know its not rational, and to be honest... that part of my mind is still scared to death, afraid that this isnt real. But it is, Sam.
Anyway, you have to... you have to believe, Sam. Sometimes you just have to take that chance; just let go and believe...
Im glad you decided to stick around, guys. Both of you. I was thinking youd probably have another assignment or something by now. Someone else out there who needed to be kept safe and loved. Youd move on like the Littlest Hobo now that Im...oh... what is this place Im in Aphrodite? Eh? Just happy doesnt touch it! The poet is speechless! Im listening to my own songs now and theyre finally...real! Its like.. before I was only watching and it was all just on a screen and now, Im in it. I am part of life again! I love this! You know what I want now? I want More!
So guys, what do you think?
Where the earth shows its bones
Of wind broken stones
and the sea, and the sky are one
Im caught out of time
My blood sings with wine
And Im running naked in the sun
With the Gods in the trees
Im weak in the knees
and the sky is a painful blue
I want to look around
All I see
Yeah guys. This is going to work....
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