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Speak To Me
Bruce Forsythe |
I am coming from someplace, remembering something,
Asking questions, replacing the old ways of answering.
The old ways that brought me back again.
Feeling some need, wrought from a hidden heart,
Tearing off worn clothes carried from an unconscious start,
Seeing for a first time what was wrong yet never known.
Electric rain drops sometimes dance upon my head.
Sound heard through the pores of my skin,
Pushing like waves through layers of old lives,
and old cries, old deaths, lost remembrances of time,
Hard habits built after the aeons first created me.
And you are this to, this song, this rhythm,
This beat in time, we've lost the words of it,
The depth of it, a rhythm without harmony,
A vastness walled in, and I can feel that cry.
Soul tears, speaking to my heart wounded of Love
Speak to me, Speak to me, so I can surrender.
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