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Time is burning, ever flickering flame. The wind is blowing, calling out your name. I gotta cut the shit, I'm sorry. Be still my longing. I know that you are drawn to me. We are carried away. We are free.
Cannot erase the past. This was planned just as it went past and I'm in no hurry to get where I'm going. It's not a race but a river flowing. Even now, always we are passing over water. I try not to get carried away. Still, I'm left wanting.
Although that river flows, washing me clean, I am still lonesome. Old desire grows just like a cancer.