Soft we are, we are falling.
Ripe and hot, cooled by the rising moon.
Break open red heart upon sharp teeth.
And divide this body into light for my love.

Sweet we are, full of red wine
Boy and girl beneath the sweetgum tree.
Break open red heart upon red heart.
Swallow me up, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.

When we rot, how will they know us?
They’ll count our pits and bones, and reckon we died alone.
In a nest of fingerbones, a lark is singing.
Split the lark and where’d the music go?
Where does music live?
Let the music go to let it live.