Wondering hands, the trees!
|
The naked stones of grey beauty,
|
Gathered to kiss the ground's hunger.
|
Extatic hate upon man's reply.
|
The war against human instinct.
|
I summon the dirty blood of what we are covered.
|
|
Still I watch the sky
|
I see within a cry.
|
For what we fear!
|
For the why we leave!
|
|
Naked hands, the forgotten trees.
|
Stare as I paint the last eagle.
|
The symbol of life
|
The black sign of the sky.
|
A last leaf of a tree,
|
The only breath left.
|
|
Questions have been made to give no answers
|
On the hill I gaze the fortress
|
Made by Nature's hands.
|
|
It stares useless for the weak ones,
|
But precious for those who know the way.
|
|
Still! I watch the sky,
|
I see without wanting to cry.
|
For what we still believe,
|
For the reason we live
|
|
-----------------
|
Naked Hands
|
| Astarte |
