Lois (Live)

I fell asleep as she had planned. The story still held the

Beginning and the end. I dreamt her eyes see at night,

Awake as her words move with tender sighs in her mind,

Where the wild white bird surely glides. From unsightly

Beginnings to pure flames at night. She used to play her

Father's song. I soon gravitate to pick up my own. I walked

Her home on open plains, sore and exposed, silent

And underweight, in her mind. Thick memories found

Composed skies, slow moving and rising with rest in time,

Where the wild white bird surely glides. From unsightly

Beginnings to pure flames at night.