sunday mass: light rain, low’s things we lost in the fire and the times

photo, sally mann

“Black, like a forest
And still, like a lion
My knees are bended
We used to speak
A different language

I wasted my breath
On words soon forgotten
Left unattended
They’re moving their feet —
But nobody’s dancing”

low, like a forest, from their album things we lost in the fire
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