Testo Tiny Hands (Au Revoir)

I awoke in the summer the sun struck the earth to furnish us with fire. But jealous hands fashioned their cross to a sword, brandished their gift as a torch to burn the light. "To the dead we owe only the truth - the human condition. Surveying the
space between the nave
I saw my own infernal grave - existential imperfection.
We sat scrawling out notes on scratched oak tombs bullets bouncing off the stonewall saints laid to rest by our Forebear at their children, at the dissidence of despair. This proximal milieu could close the door to the closeness that keeps us inside the spaces that
we hide. My heart burns cold as life leaves my daughter's eyes. I am the mother of the dying, the dust, the denouement.
How can absence take my father's house? How can nothing take my daughter's life? Walk me out from this tomb. If you are the gate could you make a way? Come down from that cross; hold our your hands so I can see.
"Je suis sorti vivant du dour crematoire. (I came out alive from the crematory oven;)
Je suis le temoin sacre de l'eglise. (I am the sacred witness from the church.) Je suis une mere qui a tout perdu." (I am a mother who has lost everything).

This fire burns your name on my lips; this smoke chokes your song on my throat. Now let death lynch my lungs, I offer what's left of this withering tongue. But oh, "No Exit" so bright as the light that shines behind the Son. I leapt through stained glass saints to
fall to the garden where we first begun.