Bringing a bowl

Of pepper, sand and salt

Get off at dawn

Digging a hole

Fill it with tinder and coal

Precious time on your own

 

We light the lantern

A slumber dancer

Takes a form

Perfect location

Site observation

In a song

 

Maybe I come home Monday

Whatever

Works

Lips

Fists

A mouth full of words

 

New utensils

Think of the season

Like a poem

Grass, leaves and tree

It's not up to me

Anymore

 

Maybe I come home Monday

Whatever

Works

Lips

Fists

A mouth full of words

 

They're always hungry

I might just spare some

Striking clouds

We bend our routine

Be nice to me

Before you're gone

 

Maybe I come home Monday

Whatever works

Lips, fists

A mouthful of words

 

West coast is the best coast

We feast in the east

Pull up a skirt

Grind a beast