I press my hand into the ground
The God of Science shall compound
And so your hand will feel my rush
In waves of light, of love, of lush
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I press my hand into the ground
The God of Science shall compound
And so your hand will feel my rush
In waves of light, of love, of lush
Oh, but I know
This is more than a rhyme
‘Cause I want nothing from, only for,
Him this time
The tempo of my thoughts slow down
In your good company
As I come to be with you,
I also come to be
Thoughts are things
Interlacing strings
Sacred vibrations
Imaginations
malarky musings 