Woolworm - Indian Summer

Mending slowly, all wounds, effortlessly as the burden of his sunken child is

lifted but effortlessly again carried

Faintly to the stone heart of an angry son, an angry son who has done his

swallowing, his memories are bitten pills

So many bitten pills that he has collected, like the fallen pieces of the

broken ground which he now moves on

This ground so unsettled, so endlessly unsettled, he recounted with the weight

of the sunken earth

And still he moves on

This is Earth, Earth which he has moved on and collected, settled to his own

liking

And still he moves on

A voice in the back of his head reminding him that this is stolen,

that this is not his

All these moments, this precious time spent, moments in gravity

All this anxious waiting, all this time spent waiting

All this pain that you know, all this effortless moving, all this pain that you

will ever know

In waking hours, time spent in these moments

Though he is living, silently in moments and forgiving relevance,

it is in his heart he is holding

And calling behind sadness of empty fields

It is in these moments of time well spent, in these moments of gravity

This time well spent

A look to heaven, sighing tears of angel’s and a night sky

Racing

Racing, yelling softly

This is the moment

This is the moment

A look to heaven, sighing tears of angel’s and a night sky

This is the moment

Holding moments and forgiving relevance, it is in his heart

Calling behind the sadness of empty fields

In these moments of time, time well spent, time knows better

Behind tired eyes, behind tired eyes, I think he’s waiting

Knowing your destiny, he calls him the angry son

This is the moment

This is the moment

This is the moment

This is the moment of truth

It’s hard to say

Running out of time

They don’t know me

Its hard to say

They don’t know me

This is the next last moment

I am the angry son

I am the angry son

I am the angry son

I am the angry son

This is the moment

This is the moment

I am the angry son

I am the angry son

I am the angry son

I am the angry son

Sighing tears of angel’s and a night sky, this is the moment