I compose, every center, every perspective
I propose, a way of looking, or a way of looking past this
Our redemption shows perfect Stillness
Baby Love, is the shadow of our existence
Any wiseman knows to keep his distance
its not enough my desire fake some illness
every liar knows to keep his Stillness
I arose from the backplate, from the blank slate
and all the fires of November paint our blood on our back doors
and i remember him still at the corner
Baby time, is the shadow of our existence
any wiseman knows to keep his distance
its not enough my desire to fake some illness
every liar knows to keep his Stillness