Races - The Knife

rate me

Before there was youI was made from the mudI would dream of the seed of a flowerIn the threads of my bloodFrom deep in my veinsGardens would bloomBut each time the flower would growI would tear out the rootsI was blinded by your graceIts then that I was afraidIt seemed in that strange lightThat its you who holds the knifeWhen you stood on the stageWearing that little white dressA thousand silver horses raced through my chestWe woke in your roomTo the bedspread and the dawnIt seemed as if I was dreaming of you all alongBlinded by your graceAnd its then I was afraidI knew in that strange lightThat its me who holds the knifeOne day without fearA hesitations curseWe both would open the curtainAnd rise from the earth

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