My ears smoke, awaiting the word
My eyes, the apparition
Why don't you speak?
Why hold your arms so
for chasing crows down?
Mouth a hole of grief
(First the other/Thirsty of the) ghost of (.....)
Will they come down to me now?
Why don't you speak?
Why hold your arms so
for chasing crows down?
Mouth a hole of grief
Princes
You are all princes