The ceiling that we stare
A frame for all the shadows on the lonely night
from dawn-attented light in our scale of stars
I want to know, I want to hear you testify myself
I want to see, I want to feel the rain
Rain down your salt in my wounds
Lay down your gold in my wounds
Where is water? Where is the sun?
Why is it winter? And why, God, all your love has gone?
The seasons that we change
will wash this constellation and our stains away
before we know the reason
Why is it me? I want to hear you estimate myself
I want to know, I want to feel the rain
Rain down your salt in my wounds
Rain down your salt in my wounds
Lay down your salt in my wounds