These words once meant so much,
bound to our ears as a remnant of home,
a hygge of worlds long gone,
a waning dream in forgotten songs
So let's create these stories,
before I forget this childhood tongue,
let's utter each word swiftly,
To the heteroge bow we whisper quietly
And when these words part,
from our mouths,
so will all we know,
We're but a vessel to the waves,
I'd love to remember my time here,
and there we will drown...
And I steal words from the dead;
I'm not dead yet
The tongue lies to a side of a corpse,
speaking it's last words to a hollow heart
Tell me everything I said back there was meaningful...
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