Buzzing of bees
The wind on the trees
I hear the flute
I follow the route.
My faith is blind like a soldier's
I spend alone all my nights.
Sometimes I feel I'm a Queen dowager
when I abandon all my fights.
Stick creak toothpick
sense diverse of a curse
Roam roll crawl alone
beast feast heading for the East.
The Rythm draws me near you
I sense your sweat, observe your chest.
Now I am certain I fear you
unless you put me to the test.
There is still hope.