Paper and pencils made a birth:
Poetry that I once wrote her.
There's nothing we were holding down.
Nothing we were holding down.
I kept a favorite photograph
Of her and I in the tall dream grass.
And nothing here could take us down.
Nothing here could take us down.
Paper buried in the dirt:
It's all the poetry that I once wrote her.
It's something we were burning down.
Something we were burning down.
I lost my favorite photographs
Buried deep in the tall dream grass.
There's so much I am holding down. (So much I am holding down.)
There's so much I am holding down.