I’m near swamp, it shows me image,
And I’ve got something in reflection,
You’ve got to see it –
Like I’m binding new connections

With someone dead, whose souls, for true, already sold,
I’m still here. And I’m 30 years old.

The conversation
So deep that silence never leaves,
I’m debating
With big crowd of dead trees.
And they’re supporting,
They’ve supposed to do so,
As they are wanting
Innocence of my old soul.
They want my body.
And they can take it, I agree,
Unless I love somebody,
I want to rot in roots of trees.

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