Pitch Black awakening in
my low income housing...

There is a place
Where music is...

Suede Green leaves
whispering gently...

Snow falls down in great
White tufts of searing pain...

Cold crisp October day
we put you in the ground...

His words hung heavy
In the Ionic August air...

In deep dark delight
They meet...

A longing for
Ancestral lands...

Tis' the season of bittersweet
when the taste of the past...

Priests and Clergymen,
Speakers for God...

Tonight I will melt
vanilla spice, weave...

Greed how it surrounds me
it stifles my spirit...