Blackout
Chelsea Brown
Chelsea Brown
I love to hear their wailing,
Reminding me sometimes of music,
The dark and tearful side of music
Of fallen souls.
Now expiating their sins with their wailing hymns,
I never had been bor-r-r-r-n!
I never had been bor-r-r-r-n!
Echoes far in the Lincoln woods.
Dying moans of a human being howls like an animal,
Yet with human sobs,
Entering the dark valley.
I try to reach answers from far woods in a strain,
Whether heard day or night,
Summer or winter.
I rejoice.
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