A year old, a year older

That’s what all the dead would claim to be

I was child left high by a moment of reprise love

A thing disarrayed

But, for the love for the notion I

Play my throes upon the higher claims

That faith is a notion less inclined to be a fit love, to fall in line so it's

Cold in your waters the song

No fires no day no silence craved

The warm and lowing need of clay

This tangled love we feed with envy

Said our love was meant for dying

In the sullen ways, undone

A fear grown, a fear bolder

That’s what all the dead would claim to see but

We cut the edges of all our love on some insistence from a power above

Don’t want you to love me before I

Weep for the tangled love, this need of clay

The swallowed hope in scenes of envy

Our love was meant for diving

In the sullen waves

Unreturned

Still by the keening tongue

Formed before the clay

Of our weighted chance all thorned romance fades

Weep for the name we hold this need of clay

The tangled love we feed with envy

Our love

To break to know this need of clay

All my broken and all my grief returned to the tongue I never learned

Love it runs to me, love it runs

Unreturned